Short Stories. Kyrle Bellew

in those days, and for many a long year after from the port of London.

      I could write page upon page about the great East Indianmen of the past, but as my life, save for this one voyage as a little child, had nothing to do with them I will refrain. I suppose that from my early associations with it, and perhaps because my mother was the daughter of a distinguished Admiral, I gained my first and my undying love for the sea. It has called to me all my life, and it calls to me as strongly to-day, as it did in my youth. Above all things the sea has ever been mistress of my heart. I can remember too, seeing my first steam engine. It was at Plymouth when the long voyage was over, and we were taken ashore.

      Then all was wonderment. England where everything was so green—where everyone was white—where we had no ayahs, no bearers—no palkees and nothing we were used to. We were installed in a little house in St. John's Wood. I remember it well. The whole place would have gone into the hall of the lovely home in Harrington Street, Calcutta. We were not happy. It was so gloomy and cold when the winter came. I remember the snow—and above all I recollect my dreadful chilblains! Then things happened, we didn't understand.

      Strange people came; at last father arrived—and he came alone. Years followed. We moved to a pretty little home near his grand big church; a tutor came to take care of us boys; the girls went to a school, and "Willie," our beautiful and well-beloved Willie disappeared. A turning point seemed to come in all our lives, when one day my father told us we were ​going into the country for the Summer, and on the platform of the Waterloo Station, a very handsome and beautifully dressed lady come up to us and we were told she was our new "mamma."

      That day set the first period in my life—and I can feel now the consternation the revelation of this new order of things created in my small breast. I adored my father. I was jealous of his love. I felt I had suffered a bitter wrong—I didn't know why. Something went out of my life, and something came into it that left me dazed. I grew in an instant into a rebel, and a great desire filled me to get away from home.

      We went to the Isle of Wight, and in the delight of that beautiful summer spent in the most picturesque spot behind St. Katherine's point, I temporarily forgot my troubles and revelled again in the contemplation of the glorious sea and the frequently passing ships, whose white sails dotted the lovely sunlit water of the Channel.

      The French fleet visited Portsmouth, and my dear father, who was persona grata with all the great folks, took me one day on board the flag-ship of the Channel Fleet, at that time, the two-decked wooden line-of-battle-ship "Edgar." We lunched aboard and then visited the "Victory," and spent the rest of the day in the dock yard and amongst the men-of-war. A new world opened to my eyes, and I made up my mind there was only one thing in it for me—and that was a life at sea.

      I brooded over the matter and at last told my father, who opposed the idea as I was his only boy left, my elder brother having gone into the world under the aegis of Mr. Henry, the great railroad magnate of America. I was unhappy at home; I never got on well with my new "mamma," and at last one day I ran away, determined to go to sea.

      ​I had a few shillings in my pocket, and away I went, wending my way down the river to the Great East India docks at Blackwell. Lying in the Export dock nearly ready for sea was a large Indianman, on board of which I stole. The riggers were aloft bending sails and, in the bright sunshine the life and color—the salt water smells of tarry ropes and new canvas—intoxicated and fascinated me.

      I wandered about the ship unheeded—watched the cargo lowered down the hatches and lastly forced by an irresistible longing to go aft—clambered into the port fore-rigging and crawled up the first two or three ratlines above the sheer pole.

      Some one sprung beneath me, and before I knew what had happened, I found my feet seized with rope yarns to the shrouds, and a voice sung out—"Now, Young 'un, you'll have to pay your footing."

      What was meant by this very rude person, clad in a tarry jumper and a pair of very dirty overalls, I hadn't the least idea. I felt uncomfortable, and my uneasiness increased on seeing the mate coming forward with a grin on his face, calling out "Come down out of that, youngster! What are you doing up there!"

      He had me cast adrift, and I gave all the money I had to the man who lashed me up, on his explaining to me that any one not belonging to the ship, venturing aloft had to "pay their footing"—in other words stand drinks to the men.

      The mate called me aft and began to question me, discovering among other things my name and who I was.

      "Want to go to sea, do you? Well, you take my advice, youngster. Go back home as quickly as you can, and if you must go to sea get your father to send you—and don't try running away any more. If you don't promise me—I'll tie you up to a stanchion till knock-off time, and then, damm me! I'll take you back myself."

      ​My father, being so prominent and well-known all over England, the mate knew that he would have done quite the right thing for himself in acting as he threatened.

      I promised him, however, to return home at once, and I left the docks with a sad heart, but more determined than ever to go to sea.

      Next day was a terror. My father had been making all sorts of search for me, as I did not get home until four in the morning, having walked all the way from the docks.

      I arrived tired out—dirty and hungry.

      I shall never forget my dear old dad in his night shirt opening the door. He simply said "Go to your room. I'll talk to you to-morrow."

      That to-morrow!

      I told him the truth—got a hiding for running away—but with it such a salve as I never hoped for, in his promise to let me go to sea.

      I didn't care for anything on earth. I didn't feel the hurt when I sat down in silence and disgrace at breakfast. I was completely, ecstatically happy, and in a few weeks found myself alongside the gangway of H. M. S. Conway, with my cadet's kit in my regulation chest, with my name in big letters painted across the front, and my uniform on in which I felt as if I owned the earth Poor dear old dad! A tear rolled down his cheek as he kissed me and said: "God bless you, boy—I wanted you at home with me."

      Well, I went to sea,—and years after I left it. I travelled the world over. I became a gold-miner in Australia, a newspaper man, reporter, editor, even a dramatic critic—out in that great country. I wandered about as a stockman, a station hand, everything a man can be in the bush. I saw life in every phase, until at last chance brought me to the stage. There let me stop. Some of the incidents of my life I have jotted down in the following pages.

      ​As I look back on them I live again in the past, and out of my dreams came the faces of many I have loved, and who have believed that the foolishness and adventures of my life have not been without some good—even if only to serve as a kind of moral finger-post to others which way not to go.

      If my "good fairy" ever visited me again and gave me my "wish," it would be to meet some kind-hearted old millionaire, who would give me a big sailing ship, and send me off to roam about the world at sea, and so "live happy ever after."

      ​

SOCKS

       Table of Contents

      my first appearance on any stage

      Summertime. Place: On board H. M. S. Conway lying in the Stoyne. The ship was dressed from flying jib-boom to taffrail with many-colored flags. Her yards were manned and, as the guns of the guard-ship, H. M. S. Donegal, thundered out a royal salute, His Royal Highness, the Duke of Edinburgh, stepped over our gangway and we all cheered ourselves hoarse.

      It was a great day! The Mayor and Corporation of Liverpool, all the great shipping magnates, with their wives, daughters, "sisters, cousins and aunts," and many of the parents of cadets belonging to the ship, were on board to witness the drill, inspection and annual distribution of prizes by the Duke—also the performance of a play, prepared