Courage -- Juvenile fiction; Drowning -- Resuscitation -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
"Yes," said the first speaker, "a dive as there's dozens of boys o'
fifteen and sixteen ready to do if they'd let 'em."
"Ay," said the grey-haired old fellow, "that they would. Why, I done it
when I was fourteen and a half."
"Mark. Penelly says as you're the biggest coward as ever stepped," said
another maliciously.
"Oh! never you mind what Mark Penelly says, Master Harry," said the
grey-haired man. "He's jealous; that's about what he is. He's 'feared
you'll go and do the dive better than him. And it's my opinion, seeing
what a swimmer you are, as you would beat him all to fits."
"So I think," said another, who had not yet spoken; and he winked at his
companions as he thrust his hands a little farther down into his
capacious pockets.
"Go on, and do it to-night, Master Harry," said the old fellow. "Don't
you be bet. The tide's just right for it, and if I was you I'd just
show Mark Penelly as he knows nothing about it."
The young man went on calmly divesting himself of his outer clothing
while this talk went on, and though there was a slight flush on his
cheeks he did not speak a word.
"He'll do it," said the man with his hands in his pockets. "He'll do
it; you see if he don't. Mas'r Harry's made up his mind. He's just
made up his mind, he have, and he's going to do it."
"I'll lay a ounce o' baccy he does it better than Mark Penelly. I wish
he was here to see him do it."
"Ay, to be sure," said the old grey-haired man. "He's going to do it--
now aren't you, Mas'r Harry? I feel kinder quite glad of it, lad, for I
taught you to swim."
"To be sure you did, Tom Genna," said the young man, smiling, "and I
hope I haven't disgraced my master."
"Not you, lad; there is not a finer swimmer nowhere," said the old man
enthusiastically; "and I'm glad you've made up your mind at last to take
the dive."
"I've not made up my mind," said the young man coolly.
"Not made up your mind!" cried several.
"No," replied the bather.
"Why, you said just now as you would do it!" cried the man with his
hands in his pockets.
"Ay, so he did," was chorused.
"Not I," said Harry quietly; "and if you will all clear off, and let me
have my swim in peace, I shall be much obliged."
"Why, you are a coward, then," said the man with his hands in his
pockets, and to show his disgust he began to sprinkle the boulders about
with tobacco-juice.
"I suppose I am," said Harry Paul, smiling. "I can't help it. I
suppose it is my nature."
"Bah!" growled the grey-haired man, who, as one of the oldest fishermen,
was looked up to as an authority. "You aren't a coward, Master Harry;
it's only 'cause you want to make a plucky effort, don't you? Just you
make up your mind to do it, and you'd do it like a shot."
"I daresay I could," replied the young man; "but why should I?"
"Why should you!" sneered the man with his hands in his pockets; "why,
'cause every one does."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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