MARGERY MANESTY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13370, 27 December 1906, Page 3

MARGERY MANESTY.

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

BY OSWALD WILDRIDGE.

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XII. TOE HAND ON THE TILLER.. Her dusky wings high lifted and far outspread, that not a wisp of the humming wind might be lost, the good ship Habakkuk forged gracefully impetuous on her homeward voyage. Norway's fragrant forests, where the timber trunks stowed away under the hatches had bowed their greetings to the sun that shines by night, lay a couple of days at the back of the whitened, widening wake, and with the dawn the mariners would sight the surfwashed jags and the spurnc-drenched cliffs of Caledonia's outer isles. Clipper-stemmed and ever a lively craft, the Habakkuk made light of the bulging burden of her holds, and while she rode low in the water she rose and fell with rhythmic tread, as the curving billows raced mightily from the Atlantic wilds and with hiss and shout surged around the feet of the prophet at the bows and flattened far astern. No wonder that Peter Bevvley's bronzy cheeks were dimpled as he lolled from rail to rail, pausing now to glance aloft at the tugging sails and straining spars, and now to watch the smoke from his pipe torn to shreds in the outer currents; or that his internal rejoicing was reflected on the faces of his crew. Upon one face only was there aught of shadowy gloom ; Tom "Union's brow loomed dark as yester-night. The hour was that of the second dogwatch, and the deck presented a picture of unfettered freedom, to bt seen on shipboard at no other part of the day's round. Jack Currie, reputed for his philosophic outlook no less than for his odd preference in the matter of attire, was busily engaged in applying a patch to a well-worn shirt of gorgeous green. Green was Jack's weakness ; its pigment coloured every shirt in •his wardrobe. "\vhy.is it I wear green sarks?" he would say when tackled on the subject; "why, bairnt' thing as surprises me is that ivvery man-jack afloat to say nowt if o't lubbers on land should ivver wear owt else. Green ; why, hasn't t' Maister Himsel' clothed the bonny fields an' hills i' green, an' isn't sea, waiter green three parts on its time, an' what is it but a hint to us? What's reet for t' Maister's •warld should be reet for t' bairns He's given it till; an' it's nowt bit barefaced presumption for men to trick thersel's oot in nasty black breeks an' women to cover thersel's wid their red an' blue an' orange fal-do-lals."

A stranger, eager in defence of established form, would, of course, pounce upon Nature's variety in her colour schemes, and cite the redness of the rose, the yellow of the buttercup, and the harebell's blue as examples equally worthy of imitation; but Jack, reliant oil the universality of his favoured hue, was not to be thus lightly crashed.

"Red," lie would retort, with a fine assumption of scorn; " ay, an' if grass were red I'd wear red, too, or if aw t' trees were painted yallow, I'd have a sark like an orange, but—" As a rule this marked the end of the dispute. Once upon a time one of the critics, liardie* than the rest, ventured on a reference to the brown-black earth as another alternative, but he gained no "idvantage therefrom. " Black Jack bellowed—" t' soil black, ay, , an' He lost neah time in lappin' it ower wid His bonny green grass. Neah, it'll nut dui. if a green sark's the reet thing for God's country, it's ieet for me." In fact, Jack made no secret of his leaning towards an entire wardrobe of his peculiar hue. ' I'd hev green breeks an 'a green coat an' a green hat if I dar," he was accustomed to declare; '.'but, man, t' oald wife i niun, hev her, say, :i' some things, ( an' this is van she insists "on.' She's a-bit wan-tin' in appreciation, an' if sarks were worn on' top, I'se flayt she'd git her foot down on that as weel as t'other green duds. But," with a twinkle in his eyes, "if ivver she's daft enough'to male me a widow J'se think seriously aboot a green suit. Sharing the honours of eccentricity aboard the Habakkuk was Bill Ritson, seated in this hour of the dog-watch on the forward hatches, and poring over a thumb-begrimed Bible, the drumming of his lips revealing to those in the secret that, as usual, he was endeavouring to commit some part of the Book to memory. For more years than he was able to name this had been the chief occupation of his leisure moments, and upon all the farextending waters there was probably not another seafaring man with a mind so solidly charged with Biblical lore. Whether his cargo had been judiciously stowed is open to doubt, but this much at least is certain, that its selection disclosed the liberal mind. All the prophets in turn had received attention, and this voyage he was paying assiduous suit to Job, his " thorn in t' flesh."

" Job's t' worst o' t' lob to git a grip on," he would explain. "There's seali much he said an' she said about him that unless I keep my eye glued till t' chart I lose my bearings an' put some of Job's wisdom intil BUdad's month, while I find the good man himself spouting a lot o' that Teemanite nonsense—an' clanged if I Tien which is which till I git my chart oot again." Among his mates there was a strong suspicion that Bill's devotion to the prophets was a. source of pleasure to him, but he himself insisted on regarding it as a matter of duty and himself as the disciple of a deeply altruistic faith. "I dui it mair for their sakes than my own. You see, when I've done cruising doon here an' drop my anchor on't t'other side o' Jordan I'se expecting to git- a sect of aw't lot of 'em— an' Moses an' Aaron an' Jeremiah an' Job an' aw of 'em— I'se be gey disappointed if we divvent have a bit crack in t' dog-watch noon an' again. An' wadn't I look a lubberin' swyb if. I kenned nowt aboot then), an' just had to sit still an' say ay an' nay to aw ther' talk an' cross-questions. What I'se stick tc is this, that is far as possible we ought to give 'em a laal bit of encouragement. "Tak' David, noo, for example. Suppose he comes along some day an' ses, ' Guid evenin', Maister Ritson,' an' I reply, It's a bouny neet, Maister David,' an' then lie drops his ground tackle, an' starts a cracking on music an' his; own. Psalms, think hoo disappointed he'd be if he found that I kenned nowt aboot his grand bit o'. sangs an' hoo he'd gang hack till his mansion think'in' he'd spent his time doon here in vain. Bit. on t'other hand, if I could oauly brast oot wid, ' Bless the Lord' an' Green Pastures,' an' run t' rig on 'cm both, why, man, he'd haul away under full sail as leetsome as a lass wid her first sweetheart, because he'd see that he'd made an impression. "As for Job, it'll be t' same wid him, neah doot. I may as weel confess that noo an' again I feel a bit bothered an' oot of my .reckoning wid him, bit what, it mak's neah matter; he'll be as prood as Lucifer if I can reel off van or two crushers that lie flummuxed that Bildad crew wid. "Moses? Ay—weel, I'd like a crack wid him, but he oalus strikes me as a fearsome sort, an' nut much given to talk ; but, di, man, I do hope as Noah an' Jonah'll show ther'sel's sociable, for their conversation should be most entertainin'.

"St. Paul? I'se have nowt to say to any o' t' saints. I can nivver git rid of a "feelin' that they're a cut above me; they're for ivver up in t' -clouds where they canna be got at, while t' prophets have a lot mair o' t' ordinary come-day and go-day style about them." And then Bill would straighten out his old bent back, a look of wistful yearning would creep into his eyes and he would end his discourse thus

"-Ay, it's true I'd like a crack noo an' again up yon, bit I'd be quite content to be dumb through aw eternity—if—could —oanly have a glimpse—o' t' Maister Hiinsel'. Eh, man; d' ye think it's possible I may? Neah, Pee not bo able to talk till Him, I'se only want to link—an' luik— an' if Ho'd not think me presumptions, I'd like to gang doon on. my kneesan'kiss the feet— that walked up Calvary—for me."

As a rule Bill's atteiHion was concert traced upon his Bible to the exclusion of all other attractions, but on this occasion it soon became evident that some disturbing influence was at work, and the furtive glances cast at the mate, leaning over the taffrail and staring with unseeing eyes across the waters, suggested that Tinion was playing no inconsiderable part in his cogitations. P>y-and-by he rose, passing a beckoning nod to Jack Currie, and the two joined Dick Glaister in the bows. "Noticed owt particler aboot the mate?'' Bill asked. "Seems to me," Jack responded, "that lie's sickening for summat."' Bill shook his head portentously. "If he is, it's for nowt that physie'll mend. An' you'd better not glower at him in that fashion. He canna. hide being stared at; I've tried it, an' it seems to hurt his feelings-." .Silence for the cutting of a new quid, an operation which no sailor would jeopardise with talk. Then Bill resumed his observations; Noah, he's nut badly. He was as white as a ghost when he conic aboard, an' noo he's as black as oald Sooty, an' that doesn't spell badly. There's just van of three things-—he's ayder done summat he shouldn't have done, or he's going to do it, or else—he's in love." An eloquent shrugging of shoulders and Bill, rolling his quid in ecstasy, spat expansively over the bows. "Conscience or lovethat's it," he continued. " You'll see l'se reet. A chap nivver luiks like that unless he's got something on his mind, or he's thinkin' aboot a lass he's not seah sure on. By swunters, it's amazin' what a chap'll dui when a lass has got him in tow. 1 remember van neet when I was sweetheartin' oor Mally, it was before we'd got till I' walkin' oot stage —I went an' .vat in her boose talk in' till t' oald man aboot his pigs—they were farmer fwolk, you'll understand, up Salterscales wayan'-just getting a glint of -Mally as she cowered ovver her darnin'. Will, noo, can you believe it, when I left her, instead of steering for home, 1 drifted doon till t' harbour an' aboard I' brig—l was sailing on the Cloffocks then—an' clanged if I didn't gang an 1 git hold o' t' tiller. Just think on it—took my trick at steerin' a brig that was moored hard an* fast till t' wharf." "Ay," ho went on, when his comrades had ceased to chuckle, " an' I believe I'd a stood it aw neet if t' mate hadn't come on deck and sent aw my love, dreams to leeward with the toe of his boot. Bit what, that's nowt till t' daft pranks some of them shore-lubbers play. Why, I've been told, it's hard to credit it I'll admit, an' you can believe it or not. as you like, bit I've been told of yau or two chaps i' Allerdale that have actually taken to writin' po'try." * Poor silly critters," Jack Currie commented, with a smile of amused contempt. "It hardly seems possible, but I believe thoose reet. Noo, I can understand Bill here staudin' his trick 'cause whyweel, it was van o' t' things he'd been accustomed to, an' when his mind was full of love itwas natteral to dui summat he was in the habit of doing. Likewise I can understand a chap that likes beer takkin' ti drink, but for yan wid hafe an ounce o' brains .to set to wark an' reel off a heap o' babby-hoose rhymes—weel, it's mair nor mortal man can grip." " Nothing o' t' sort," the thunder growl of Dick Glaister declared, and the others turned to him expectantly. Dick was never at a loss for an explanation, and it was felt that the solution of another mystery was forthcoming. "It's as clear as dayleet, if you'll only think a bit. It's weakness, nothing ek«e. There's some men, but only a few, that love touches in their strong points an' fetches 'em out. Bill, here, for example. Everybody that knows him, kens he's a varra divil for work, an' when he was courtin,' he slipped aboard his ship lor t' same reason that a duck takes to watter. Love touched him in his strong point, ye see, brought him out, showed what sort of stuff lie's made on."

Bill's face glowed with delight, and slapping his thigh, he ejaculated—" That's just it."

"Well, now," Dick continued, I've given you an example of strong points, but as I 'said when I started, in t' great mass of cases it's the soft places that love finds. Drink's a weakness, an' as soon as some men feel a bit in love they fly to drink. An' it's' same with po'try—thal's a weak spot in a man's natur', and love finds it out; an' vanity, for you'll see some young chaps don aw their new duds, an' shave ther'seUs twice a week, an' never think o' stirrin' out o' doors without bavin' their shoes blacked. Ay, ay. thei's nothin' like love for findin' soft spots an' showin' 'em up." "As for t' mate," Dick reflectively rumbled, with a glance aft, " it's hard to say which of his weaknesses has been got at; he's so many of 'cm ; but judgin' by his conduct this trip, I should say it was t' sulks. Just look at him. lads! Fancy love paintin' a chap's face that colour." If appearance were to be accepted as an index Tinion was indeed in bad case. From his cheeks all the health tones had fled, leaving mere livid patches; on brow and eyes and lips there was the mark of a soul at war. But the skipper thought only of physical evil, and approached the mate with an offer of relief for the middle watch. "You're not fit for it, my lad," he said kindly, "and you'd better turn in and lay bv for the night." '"Fit, of course I'm fit,' the mate replied surlily. "I can't tell what you're all bothering about. I was never fitter. The best way to really make a man badly," be added, "is to persuade him think there's something wrong with him, and if you pack me off to my bunk you'll soon have me on my beam ends." Still unconvinced, the skipper pressed his point. Little did he know that instead of ;i friendly contest with a man fie was waging a stern conflict with relentless fate : little did he dream that success would have involved a malignant plan in absolute defeat. Realising at last that persuasion was powerless, he abandoned the effort, and as Tinion disappeared down the companion for his watch below Peter Bewley congratulated himself on the possession of a mate inspired with a spirit so sturdy.

(To be continue;! daily.)