CHAPTER VII.

THE LAUNCH OF THE "QUEEN OF THE BROADS."

The men saved from the wreck of the brig on the Gorton sands were dealt with in a very summary way indeed. They were Englishmen all, and were told by Merryweather that if they chose to "volunteer" into the service of the King and serve in the Royal Navy, they should receive a free pardon; but if not, they must stand the consequences.

Four of the smuggler-sailors volunteered at once and cheerfully. The fifth was the redoubtable skipper of the brig, a dark-haired, eagle-eyed little fellow, little as to stature, but of powerful build, and a Welshman by birth.

"I refuse," he cried, "to serve your King of England. He is not a man, but a baboon!"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Merryweather struck him straight from the shoulder, and down he rolled on the sand.

[Illustration: "Merryweather struck him straight from the shoulder, and down he rolled on the sand."]

He got up, scowling at the lieutenant, and wiping the blood and sand from his face.

"Coward!" he hissed, "to treat a prisoner so. But faugh! it was always the way with the lily-livered Saxon. See!" he added, "you daren't do it, but for the gold swab on your shoulder, the sword by your side, and your hired assassins around you."

Off went Merryweather's coat and his sword. He flung them to Dan Brundell, who was standing scratching his head and looking very puzzled.

"These good fellows," he said, "will see fair play between us. I am no longer lieutenant in the King's service, but plain Jack Merryweather. Stand forth, David Jones, and see how soundly a Saxon can thrash a Welshman."

Jones sprang upon the lieutenant almost before he had finished the sentence.

"Like mountain cat that guards its young, Full at the Saxon's throat he sprung."

That Welshman had arms like a gorilla, and Merryweather was all but strangled before he got clear away.

"Keep out of grips," shouted his own men. "Fight fair, skipper, and good luck to you."

He didn't mean to fight fair, however, if he could help it; but Merryweather got in one with his left and, figuratively speaking, knocked his man clean over the ropes. The Welshman never had another chance. He was no sooner up than down again. Embracing the soft sands didn't hurt him, it is true; but Merryweather's fists were rapidly making a mummy of him.

"I cave in," he cried at last.

"That isn't enough. Do you volunteer?"

"I do, sir," said Jones. "I've never met a harder-fisted Saxon in my life. Shake hands, Englishman. I volunteer on one condition."

Merryweather began to spar again.

"No more, thanks," said Jones, smiling grimly. "I want to serve in your ship when you go to fight the French. I want to be with a brave man. That is the condition."

"Granted," said Merryweather, coolly putting on his coat, "and I won't forget it."

"Neither will I," murmured David Jones; but no one heard him except Tom.

And just at that moment a bright idea occurred to young Tom. Why shouldn't he also sail with Merryweather? He determined to broach it to the kindly officer as soon as he had an opportunity, and it was not many weeks before this opportunity came.

All haste was now made to ship the prisoners. Prisoners now no longer, but brave "volunteers." The sloop had quietly dropped anchor at the very time the fight was going on between her commander and the skipper of the wrecked brig.

Before embarking Merryweather shook hands with Dan and Ashley, thanking them most heartily for their hospitality. Then he shook hands with Tom.

"Good-bye, youngster," he said; "but just take my advice. Don't be a sailor. Stay at home and plough the fields; be an honest fisherman, be a gardener, a hedger, or ditcher; but don't come to sea."

Young Tom was astonished at his own boldness as he made reply: "I shan't be a ditcher, nor a hedger, nor a gardener, nor a fisherman, and I shan't plough the fields; but I shall plough the sea."

Merryweather laughed as he leapt into his boat. He waved his hand again, then away he went, leaving the people to bury the dead, and pick up the spoils of the wreck as their reward.

* * * * *

Tom went off to school that day as usual, though he was very late. But Mr. Curtiss forgave him. Yet somehow he could not fix his attention upon either his books or his sums; and probably, therefore, the curate was just as glad when lessons were over as the boy was. He went home more slowly than usual, and less joyfully. He kept kicking the pebbles as he marched along the road, a sure sign he was deep in thought, and the first words he said to Uncle Bob on his return were these, "I wonder if ever Captain Merryweather will come again?"

"He is sure to, my lad. He said he would call and see us. Besides, he has an old shipmate not a great way off."

"What, another old shipmate as well as you, Uncle Bob?"

"Why, bless your dear heart, boy, I was only a man before the mast when in the same craft with Mate Merryweather, but since that time he's been in many a ship; kicked about like a wet swab. No, Tom, his friend is an officer and gentleman."

"Where does he live, and what is his name?"

"He lives, my lad, at Wells, or rather near it, at his old father's parsonage at Burnham Thorpe."

"And with his mother, Uncle Bob?"

"His mother is dead, long, long ago, lad."

"Is he as tall and pretty as Mr. Merryweather?"

"What droll questions you ask, Tom. But I have never seen Mr. Merryweather's friend. But I am told that he is but a little man, and very delicate in health."

"Oh! then he isn't a hero like brave Captain Merryweather. Oh, uncle, you should have seen how he fought the skipper of the brig; and Mr. Jones didn't know where to hit, and his nose and mouth were all blood and sand. I'd like to be a hero like the captain. What is the little man's name?"

"Horatio Nelson, lad."

"Oh!" said Tom. "It isn't much of a name, is it?"

But from that moment this strange boy seemed to regain his wonted spirits. He had something to live for. His hero, Captain Merryweather, who thrashed the Welshman, was coming back. Hooray! and he should count the weeks and days till he returned. So he went about his studies more energetically now, only one day he told Mr. Curtiss that he must teach him all he knew about navigation, because a sailor he meant to be and nothing else.

All that Mr. Curtiss _didn't_ know about navigation would have filled a big book, only he was a right good fellow, and determined that he should at least teach his little pupil the history of the British navy, and the geography of the world. And I may as well say here, that these subjects proved of great present interest to Tom, and of future utility also.

* * * * *

It was about this period of young Tom's career that Daddy Dan completed a project he had long had in view, to give his poor brother Bob a little more interest and pleasure in life. Dan, it should be remembered, was a very hard-working man, and seldom either idle or laid up, so that the building of a private barge for Bob was work that he could not keep steady at. Rome, however, was not built in one day. Indeed, I question if that ancient city was completed in two. But "every little helps the mickle" you know, reader, and it is surprising what a deal one can do by degrees, and day by day. So in the merry month of June, much to Bob's joy and Tom's delight, the barge, _Queen of the Broads_, was all finished and ready for launching.

Little saucy Bertha, who had made it all up again with Tom, came with her maid Brown to the cottage to christen the barge with a bottle of gooseberry wine and she--the ship I mean--left the slips in grand style and took the water like a duck, amidst the wild huzzas and hoorays of the children and the neighbours, who had gathered from all quarters to behold the ceremony.

The _Queen of the Broads_ was nothing much to look at, she was square in bows and square in stern, with no freeboard to speak of; in fact she was a kind of punt, but so constructed that Uncle Bob's low-wheeled cot could be run on board and on shore with the greatest ease, and without the slightest danger. She had a bit of a mast forward, and a little yawl mast aft, where there was room enough for quite a party. Moreover the barge was provided with oars and punting poles, so it must be confessed she was pretty complete upon the whole.

Well, after the barge herself was launched, Bob's cot was launched on board of her, and everything passed off so beautifully and "lovelily," as Bertha put it, that once more wild huzzas rose from the assembled multitude, and Meg, barking and frantic with joy, jumped on board, and took her place in the bows, just like a Christian.

Old Daddy Dan was so gratified that he couldn't speak for some time after the cot was successfully run on board. He just stood smiling and scratching his head.

Then everybody gathered round him and shook hands, and wished him so many good wishes that the tears rose to his eyes, and he had to swallow a big lump in his throat before he could make any adequate reply.

But the day was fine, with a gentle breeze rippling the broad, and whispering softly among the reeds, and so with Dan at the helm sail was hoisted, and the barge glided silently away into the open water.

This was but a trial trip, but it was a very successful one; everybody, including Bertha and Meg, returned happy and hungry, and Mrs. Brundell and Ruth, met them on the quay.

Somebody else as well. You see it never rains but it pours, and 'there, sure enough, with one arm round Ruth's waist, as gallantly as you please, and waving his cocked-hat in the air with the other, stood the bold Captain Merryweather himself.

You may be sure Tom was glad to see him, and took no pains to hide his joy either, for his eyes sparkled like farthing candles, and he turned as red as a ripe tomato with perfect joy.

Merryweather's "ship" was in the bay, and she had a consort this time, no other than the smuggling yawl, which it had taken him a whole fortnight to chase and secure. So the gallant officer had secured not only prize money, but several new "volunteers" for the Royal Navy. No wonder therefore that he was merry, or that the dinner which was partaken of on the lawn was--as the lieutenant himself phrased it--one of the pleasantest meals he had ever partaken of, either on board ship or on shore.

After dinner Tom volunteered to row Bertha and her maid home across the broads. But the child stipulated that Captain Merryweather should come also, and although this was a heavy cargo for the little boat, Tom was very glad indeed to have his hero on board.

Bertha had arranged her flirtations on a basis that was eminently satisfactory from her own point of view. When Mr. Merryweather was away at sea Tom was to have her company, and as much of her affection as could be spared from her pets and playthings; but whenever the captain should arrive, then Tom was to be, for the time being, thrown overboard.

And with this arrangement Tom was obliged to be content.

Well, Mr. Merryweather, much to the boy's sorrow, went off that very night, but promised that he would return in about a fortnight, and then--if Mr. Curtiss would spare him--would take Tom with him for a trip to Wells to see

HORATIO NELSON.