"Break the jackanapes' head for him, Yeo," said Oxenham. "Call me jackanapes again, and I break yours, sir,' and the boy lifted his fist fiercely. Oxenham looked at him a minute, smilingly. "Tut! tut! my man, hit one of your own size, if you will, and spare little folk like me!" "If I have a boy's age, sir, I have a man's fist. I shall be fifteen years old this month, and know how to answer any one who insults me.” "Fifteen, my young cockerel? you look liker twenty," said Oxenham, with an admiring glance at the lad's broad limbs, keen blue eyes, curling golden locks, and round honest face. "Fifteen! If I had half-a-dozen such lads as you, I would make knights of them before I died. Eh, Yeo?" "He'll do," said Yeo; "he will make a brave gamecock in a year or two, if he dares ruffle up so early at a tough old hen-master like the captain." At which there was a general laugh, in which Oxenham joined as loudly as any, and then bade the lad tell him why he was so keen after the horn. "Because," said he, looking up boldly, "I want to go to sea. I want to see the Indies. I want to fight the Spaniards. Though I am a gentleman's son, I'd a deal liever be a cabin-boy on board your ship." And the lad having hurried out his say fiercely enough, dropped his head again. "And you shall," cried Oxenham, with a great oath; "and take a galleon, and dine off carbonadoed Dons. Whose son are you, my gallant fellow?" "Mr. Leigh's, of Burrough Court." "Bless his soul! I know him as well as I do the Eddystone, and his kitchen too. Who sups with him. to-night?" Sir Richard Grenvil." "Dick Grenvil? I did not know he was in town. Go home, and tell your father John Oxenham will come and keep him company. There, off with you! I'll make all straight with the good gentleman, and you shall have your venture with me; and as for the horn, let him have the horn, Yeo, and I'll give you a noble for it." "Not a penny, noble captain. If young master will take a poor mariner's gift, there it is, for the sake of his love to the calling, and Heaven send him luck therein." And the good fellow, with the impulsive generosity of a true sailor, thrust the horn into the boy's hands, and walked away to escape thanks. "And now," quoth Oxenham, "my merry men all, make up your minds what mannered men you be minded to be before you take your bounties. I want none of your rascally, lurching, long-shore vermin, who get five pounds out of this captain, and ten out of that, and let him sail without them after all, while they are stowed away under women's mufflers, and in tavern cellars. If any man is of that humour, he had better cut himself up, and salt himself down in a barrel for pork, before he meets me again; for by this light, let U me catch him, be it seven years hence, and if I do not cut his throat upon the streets, it's a pity! But if any man will be true brother to me, true brother to him I'll be, come wreck or prize, storm or calm, salt water or fresh, victuals or none, share and fare alike; and here's my hand upon it, for every man and all; and so "Westward ho! with a rumbelow, And hurra for the Spanish main, O!'” After which oration, Mr. Oxenham swaggered into the tavern, followed by his new men; and the boy took his way homewards, nursing his precious horn, trembling between hope and fear, and blushing with maidenly shame, and a half-sense of wrong-doing, at having revealed suddenly to a stranger the darling wish which he had hidden from his father and mother ever since he was ten years old CHARLES KINGSLEY. listed soldier. From the verb recruit, "to repair by fresh supplies, to supply any lack or deficiency." French, recruter, from Lat. re, "back, again," and cresco, "I grow." Compare accrue, notes, page 277. liever (lév-er), rather; comparative of lief, "gladly, willingly." cärbonádoed, cut up and broiled or fried; turned into chops. Lat. carbo," a coal." YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. YE mariners of England! Who guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze, To match another foe, And sweep through the deep While the stormy tempests blow; The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave; Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy tempests blow; When the battle rages long and loud, And the stormy tempests blow. The meteor-flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow. CAMPBELL. |