Adventure stories; Boys -- Fiction; East End (London, England) -- Fiction; Grandfathers -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
The talk in the bar went on, being almost entirely the talk of Mr.
Cripps; who valued himself on the unwonted importance his news gave him,
and aimed at increasing it by saying the same thing a great many times;
by saying it, too, when he could, in terms and phrases that had a strong
flavour of the Sunday paper. But as for me, I soon ceased to hear, for I
discovered something of greater interest on the shelf that skirted the
bar-parlour. It was a little model of a ship in a glass case, and it was
a great marvel to me, with all its standing and running rigging
complete, and a most ingenious and tumultuous sea about it, made of
stiff calico cockled up into lumps and ridges, and painted the proper
colour. Much better than either of the two we had at home, for these
latter were only half-models, each nothing but one-half of a little ship
split from stem to stern, and stuck against a board, on which were
painted sky, clouds, seagulls, and (in one case) a lighthouse; an
exasperating make-believe that had been my continual disappointment.
But this was altogether so charming and delightful and real, and the
little hatches and cuddy-houses so thrilled my fancy, that I resolved to
beg of my grandfather to let me call the model my own, and sometimes
have the glass case off. So I was absorbed while the conversation in the
bar ranged from the ships and their owners to my father, and from him to
me; as was plain when my grandfather called me.
"Here he is," said my grandfather, with a deal of pride in his voice,
putting his foot on a stool and lifting me on his knee. "Here he is, an'
a plucked 'un; ain't ye, Stevy?" He rubbed his hand over my head, as he
was fond of doing. "Plucked? Ah! Why, he was agoin' to keep house all by
hisself, with all the pluck in life, till his father come home! Warn't
ye, Stevy boy? But he's come along o' me instead, an' him an' me's goin'
to keep the Hole in the Wall together, ain't we? Pardners: eh, Stevy?"
I think I never afterwards saw my grandfather talking so familiarly with
his customers. I perceived now that there was another in the bar in
addition to Mr. Cripps; a pale, quiet, and rather ragged man who sat in
an obscure corner with an untouched glass of liquor by him.
"Come," said my grandfather, "have one with me, Mr. Cripps, an' drink
the new pardner's health. What is it? An' you--you drink up too, an'
have another." This last order Grandfather Nat flung at the man in the
corner, just in the tones in which I had heard a skipper on a ship tell
a man to "get forrard lively" with a rope fender, opposite our quay at
Blackwall.
"I'm sure 'ere's wishin' the young master every 'ealth an' 'appiness,"
said Mr. Cripps, beaming on me with a grin that rather frightened than
pleased me, it twisted the nose so. "Every 'ealth and 'appiness, I'm
sure!"
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account