Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Nature -- Juvenile fiction; Self-reliance -- Juvenile fiction
"How did I know as you was Martin? Why, bless your innocent heart, I
knowed it all along of course. How d'ye think I wouldn't know that? Why,
I no sooner saw you there among them rocks than I says to myself,
'Hullo,' says I, bless my eyes if that ain't Martin looking at my cows,
as I calls 'em. Of course I knowed as you was Martin."
"And what made you go and live in the sea, Old--Bill?" questioned
Martin, "and why did you grow so big?"
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the giant, blowing a great cloud of spray from his
lips. "I don't mind telling you that. You see, Martin, I ain't pressed
for time. Them blessed bells is nothing to me now, not being in the
foc'sle trying to git a bit of a snooze. Well, to begin, I were born
longer ago than I can tell in a old town by the sea, and my father he
were a sailor man, and was drowned when I were very small; then my
mother she died just becoz every man that belonged to her was drowned.
For those as lives by the sea, Martin, mostly dies in the sea. Being a
orphan I were brought up by Granny. I were very small then, and used to
go and play all day in the marshes, and I loved the cows and water-rats
and all the little beasties, same as you, Martin. When I were a bit
growed Granny says to me one day, 'Bill, you go to sea and be a
sailor-boy,' she says, 'becoz I've had a dream,' she says, 'and it's
wrote that you'll never git drowned.' For you see, Martin, my Granny
were a wise woman. So to the sea I goes, and boy and man, I was on a
many voyages to Turkey and Injy and the Cape and the West Coast and
Ameriky, and all round the world forty times over. Many and many's the
time I was ship-wrecked and overboard, but I never got drowned. At last,
when I were gitting a old man, and not much use by reason of the
rheumatiz and stiffness in the jints, there was a mutiny in our ship
when we was off the Cape; and the captain and mate they was killed. Then
comes my turn, becoz I went again the men, d'ye see, and they wasn't
a-going for to pardon me that. So out they had me on deck and began to
talk about how they'd finish me--rope, knife, or bullet. 'Mates,' says
I, 'shoot me if you like and I'll dies comfortably; or run a knife into
me, which is better still; or string me up to the yard-arm, which is the
most comforble thing I know. But don't you go and put me into the sea,'
says I, 'becoz it's wrote that I ain't never going to git drowned, and
you'll have all your trouble for nothing,' says I. That made 'em larf a
most tremenjous larf. 'Old Bill,' says they, 'will have his little
joke.' Then they brings up some iron stowed in the hold, and with ropes
and chains they ties well-nigh half a ton of it to my legs and arms,
then lowers me over the side. Down I went, in course, which made 'em
larf louder than afore; and I were fathoms and fathoms under water
afore I stopped hearing them larf. At last I comes down to the bottom of
the sea, and glad I were to git there, becoz now I couldn't go no
further.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account