Wild Life in the Land of the Giants: A Tale of Two Brothers. Stables Gordon

We’ve Dickens and Scott, and that lot, but what we’re doin’ principally at present is a thorough overhaul o’ Marryat. He is the chap, Miss, to give a man, or boy either, a right taste o’ the crust o’ the service.”

      Dear Mattie was listening to all this while she stood close by me, with one wee arm round my wrist, all eyes and smiles.

      “What a perfect picture those two little ones look!” said Mrs Moore. “You are very fond of your little sailor brothers, aren’t you, dear? Which do you like best?”

      Mattie’s eye wandered from Jill to me, then she dropped her head smiling on my shoulder.

      “I love them both,” she said, “but Jack saved my life.”

      That was only Mattie’s romantic way of alluding to our introduction, when I punched the rude fisher-boy’s head on her account.

      But there was never a bit of jealousy about Jill.

      There was one other thing that Tom taught us, and it is a branch of such pleasant education that I advise all boys to go in for it, viz, joiner’s and carpenter’s work. We had a regular bench on board and all sorts of tools, so that we could make almost any sort of article.

      We spent the greater part of every evening on board ship, and as Tom was generally on board also, and had a wealth of wonderful tales to tell, the time passed very quickly indeed.

      We did not forget to read and pray as dear mother told us to, and this we did every night whether sleepy or not. Mind, I am not telling this part of our story for the sake of showing we were good boys. We were no better, perhaps no worse, than other lads of our age, but we had then, as I have had all my life, unbounded faith in prayer, and in the goodness of the Father who made us. Besides, there was so much to thank Him for and to ask Him for, and while on our knees we somehow seemed always close to our absent mother. That alone made prayer so sweet.

      Like most boys, we rather liked ghost stories, and though I do not believe it now, we had an idea then, that the old Thunderbolt was haunted. You see so many men had been killed on her battle-decks, and there were so many ugly dark stains about the parts where the guns had been, that it is no wonder lads so full of romance as we were, manufactured a ghost or two.

      The decks did seem very gloomy and empty just after nightfall, so much so that, I do not mind confessing, when Jill and I had to go forward, we walked very closely together indeed, and gave many a fearful quick glance round, lest we should see a strange light or something even more startling.

      But we never saw anything fearsome, though more than once, after we had been talking about mysterious things just before getting into our cots, we did have ugly dreams, and were glad when we saw daylight shimmering on the water alongside.

      Now, all along my influence over Jill had been something quite marvellous. It really was as if his soul and mine were linked together in bonds that nothing could sever. Our very thoughts and imaginings were often precisely similar at the same time or times.

      Well, knowing this, I should have been most careful in all I did and in all I said, and I will never, never forgive myself for not being so. For as you will presently see, my giving way to romantic imaginings and thoughts, that however pleasant they might be for the present, were really silly, had terrible results.

      Tom Morley used to tell us tales of the pirates of the olden times, a race of marauders that I need hardly say have been long since swept from the face of the great deep.

      Well, we liked ghosts best, perhaps, but next to them came pirates.

      Being older than Jill – by five minutes – I really ought to have known better, yet one day I proposed playing at pirates. And soon this became a regular game of ours. Tom did not seem to mind it much, though he himself did not play, but he lent us a couple of old-fashioned horse pistols, and taught us to load and fire them – one lesson was enough. Of course we did not use anything more deadly than a little blotting-paper to keep the powder in.

      Jill was always the pirate. He used to hail and board the ship from the bows in fine form, while I represented the crew. The battle would rage with pistols and sword-sticks, the former being dispensed with after the first discharge, and the fight then continued all over the deck, breast to breast, the excitement increasing every minute.

      Sometimes the ship was captured, and I had to represent the crew to the bitter end, and walk the plank a dozen times.

      What we did miss more than anything else was a black flag with skull and cross-bones.

      Happy thought, we would make one!

      We worked unknown to Tom at this, however. I bought the stuff, white and black, and it cost us a whole week or more to finish the job, but it was certainly a very creditable piece of work when finished. Quite a big thing too, and all complete, and ready to be run up to the halyards on which Tom hoisted a bit of bunting on high-days and holidays.

      We never really thought of running it up, of course, but it was nice to have it. We felt then we w’ere pirates, in imagination at all events.

      Now here is a singular thing which I must relate. One morning after being called by Tom – this was a regular part of Tom’s duty – I looked round to Jill’s cot, and there he was sitting bolt upright in it, with that sunny smile on his innocent sleepy face.

      “What’s up, Jill?” I asked.

      “You’re not,” said Jill, “though I heard Tom sing out, ‘Five bells, young gentlemen, please,’ more than half an hour ago.”

      Then the next words spoken were said by both at precisely the same time, syllabic by syllable as if we had been wound up to it.

      “I’ve had such a funny dream.”

      We looked at each other, then I said:

      “What was yours, Jill?”

      “Nay,” said Jill, “you tell me yours first, because you know you are the eldest.”

      “Well, I dreamt we had captured the Thunderbolt, hoisted the black flag and run off to sea with her.”

      “That was exactly my dream,” said Jill.

      “Did you make Mr Moore and the rest walk the plank?”

      “Oh no, Jack, I wouldn’t dream of anything so very dreadful. I didn’t see them anywhere about.”

      “Neither did I in mine. But my dream was altogether jolly fun.”

      “So was mine and – ”

      “Gone six bells, young gentlemen. Really if this sort o’ thing goes on, I’ll take the number o’ your hammocks, and report ye on the quarter-deck next time your aunt comes on board.”

      “All right, Captain Tom, we’ll be out in five minutes.”

      And up we jumped, and were speedily dressed, and on deck for our morning walk.

      But we thought no more of the dream.

      It went as completely out of our minds as if we had never dreamed it at all.

      But it was brought to our minds about a month afterwards in a way I am never likely to forget.

      Meanwhile we still kept up our game of playing at being pirates.

      It was summer now, and dear sister Mattie came often to see us, more often with her Mummy Gray than with Aunt Serapheema.

      Of course we initiated her into the mystery of the pirate-game, and she took a most active part in it too. She acted the rich old dowager who had bags of gold and treasures untold, diamonds and all the rest of it, and who was eventually captured, and made to walk the plank with the rest of the unhappy crew.

      I never saw any game take such complete possession of a child, as that pirate-play did of Mattie. She came oftener on board now than she might otherwise have done; she entered into the thing heart and soul, suggesting many improvements we never should have thought about, and acting her part as if to the manner born.

      Of course she was told of the black flag, and must see it, and her eyes actually sparkled as they fell on the weird