Chatterbox, 1905.

V >> Various >> Chatterbox, 1905.

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E. D.

WHAT AM I?

No one can be pleased with me,
I am dark and dull to see;
Those whom money troubles tease
Hate me, for I spoil their ease.

Welsh am I, and English too,
Scottish, in another view;
Wide and narrow, small and great,
Dreary, too, and desolate.

Let him think of me, who eats
Marmalade, and other sweets;
Full of work am I, and wealth,
Though too closely packed for health.

[_Answer on page 230._]

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(_Continued from page 203._)

CHAPTER III.

'What I am going to tell you,' Ping Wang began, 'is purely a family
matter. It is the reason why I left China. My father was the mandarin of
Kwang-ngan, and although he did not become a Christian, he was very
friendly with the English missionaries, and when I was quite a little
boy he asked them to teach me all the things which English boys were
taught. When I was ten years old I was sent to a school at Hongkong,
kept by an Englishman, and I remained there until I was eighteen. That,
of course, accounts for my speaking English fairly well. When I was
eighteen my father sent for me. But I found Chinese manners and customs
were not pleasing to me after so many years among English people.
Therefore I asked my father to permit me to return to Hongkong and
become a merchant. He was considering the matter, and I believe that he
would have given his consent, when he was seized by Chin Choo's orders
and executed. He was unpopular with the authorities at Peking. The
mandarin of every town has to squeeze as much money as he possibly can
out of his people and send it to the authorities. My father was a
kind-hearted man, and as he did not squeeze his people so much as most
mandarins, he did not send so much money to the Imperial coffers as the
authorities wished. Twice they reprimanded him, and Chin Choo, who lived
at Kwang-ngan, hearing of this, went to Peking and asserted that my
father retained for his own use the greater part of the money which he
had squeezed out of the people. The high officials believed this false
tale, and, having received bribes from Chin Choo, empowered him to have
my father executed and succeed him as mandarin. My mother and brother
were also killed, and our house burnt to the ground. Fortunately for me
I was not in the town at the time, and hearing what had taken place I
started off at once for Hongkong. Of course, it was useless for me to
attempt to get Chin Choo punished, for such events are of frequent
occurrence in parts of my poor country. So, having a little money, which
I obtained by selling some jewellery which I possessed, I took a passage
to England. What has happened to me since I have already told you.'

'It is a very sad story,' Charlie declared, feelingly; 'and I am
exceedingly sorry for you. But what surprises me is, that after having
suffered so much in your native land you should think of returning to
it.'

'I will tell you my reason. Chin Choo confiscated all our property, but
I hope to be able to recover a very valuable portion of it. Before our
house was burnt to the ground, everything that it contained was removed
to Chin Choo's residence. Among those things was a large brass image of
Buddha. If I can recover that I shall be a rich man!'

'But brass images of Buddha are not very valuable.'

'That one is, because it was my father's safe--a receptacle for his very
precious rubies. He made the idol himself, and no one but he and I knew
how to open it. Chin Choo will never discover the secret, or guess that
the idol contains anything. Therefore I wish to return to my native
place in disguise, and obtain that idol by some means or other. If I
succeed in obtaining it, I shall be a rich man.'

'I should like to go with you,' Charlie exclaimed.

'I wish you could,' Ping Wang answered, eagerly. 'I can read character
well enough to know that you are not what you pretend to be. You have
come to sea for novelty or curiosity, but not for necessity. If you
accompany me to my native place, I promise you that if I recover my
father's idol I will repay you all the expense to which you have been
put, and give you some of the precious stones.'

'I wasn't thinking of the stones, but of the adventure and experience.
If my father raises no objection, and will supply me with the necessary
money, I will go with you gladly.'

Ping Wang was delighted, and Charlie added to his high spirits by
confiding to him the reason of his being aboard the _Sparrow-hawk_.

'So your father is the man whom the skipper hopes to swindle!' Ping Wang
exclaimed, and went off into a fit of laughter.

'Stop that row!' the skipper shouted, coming aft. 'Can't you find any
work to do? I'll have no loafers aboard my boat. Here, you Chinee, you
get for'ard, and trim the lamps.'

Ping Wang rose to obey.

'Hurry up!' the skipper growled, and kicked him.

In a moment Charlie was on his feet. 'You wretched little bully!' he
said to the skipper. 'If you ill-treat that man again, I will knock you
down.'

'You dare to threaten me on my own ship!' the skipper shouted, white
with rage. 'I'm the skipper, and I'll let you know it. I'll clap you in
irons if you give me any of your back answers.'

'Why not try kicking me instead?'

'I'll give you in charge for mutiny when we get back to Grimsby.'

'I shouldn't be in a hurry to enter a police-court, if I were you.
Prosecutors are sometimes asked unpleasant questions.'

The chief engineer at that moment came up from the engine-room.

'Skipper, I want a word with you,' he said.

'Right you are,' the skipper replied, and walked over to him, well
pleased to bring his argument with Charlie to an end. Charlie was not
really a very formidable opponent for a grown man, but Skipper Drummond,
like many bullies, was a great coward.

Charles, left alone, resumed his seat on the ropes and, forgetting for a
time the skipper's existence, spent a pleasant half-hour in thinking
over the story which Ping Wang had related to him.

About three hours after the quarrel, the _Sparrow-hawk_ arrived at the
'Dogger,' a submarine bank, the nearest point of which is about sixty
miles from England. It is one hundred and seventy miles long and seventy
miles broad.

'We shall shoot in an hour's time,' the mate said to Charlie, 'and you
must give us a hand.'

'Whom are you going to shoot?' Charlie inquired, jokingly.

'I know whom you would like to shoot--the skipper. He has taken a
dislike to you, and tells me that you are the biggest scoundrel he ever
had aboard.'

The mate smiled as he spoke, and added, after a few moments' interval:
'The skipper is a queer customer, and, if you take my advice, you will
do all you can to please him. Anyhow, he says that you are to give a
hand when we shoot and when we haul the trawl.'

'I am to be fisherman as well as cook. Is he going to pay me double
wages?'

'You had better ask him. Got a mug of tea handy?'

Charlie had, and he gave it to him.

'We shall want tea again after shooting,' the mate said to Charlie as he
replaced the mug on the hook.

Leaving the big kettle on the stove, Charlie went out to witness the
preparations for beginning fishing, and was just in time to see the men
anchor a small buoy, fitted with a light and a flag. This was anchored
so that the _Sparrow-hawk_, by keeping it in sight, should not wander
away from the fishing-ground. They were in about twenty-six fathoms of
water, and, if they lost sight of the buoy, they would probably steam
into deeper water, and the net would then be unable to reach the bottom.
By day the fishermen keep within sight of the buoy-flag; by night they
watch the buoy-light. In fishing fleets, when some twenty or thirty
steam trawlers belong to one firm, an old smack called a 'mark-ship' is
anchored on the fishing-ground. It can be seen for many miles in
daylight, and by night its whereabouts is made known by rockets fired
from it. But 'single boaters,' such as the _Sparrow-hawk_, have to rely
upon their own little flag and light-buoys.

When the _Sparrow-hawk_ had anchored her buoy she steamed off, and,
punctually at five o'clock, 'shot her gear,' or, in plainer language,
lowered her big triangular fishing-net. This having been done without a
hitch, the men had their tea. Charlie took his in the galley, having
determined to spend as little time as possible in the foc's'le. He had
discovered that the crew of the _Sparrow-hawk_ was composed of the black
sheep of Grimsby and Hull. They were men whom no decent North Sea
skipper would have had on his boat. On nearly all the trawlers working
out of Yarmouth, Grimsby, and Hull, the men are fine, manly,
thoroughbred Englishmen, facing danger fearlessly and uncomplainingly
year in and year out. Drunkenness is almost unknown among them, and bad
language is rarely heard. If Charlie had been on almost any other boat
than the _Sparrow-hawk_ he would have thoroughly enjoyed sitting at the
foc's'le table, having a chat with the men. But to save a few pounds the
skipper had engaged, at low wages, men who were known to be bad
characters, and who could not, therefore, get a job on any other
trawler. Skipper Drummond had himself been discharged for drunkenness by
the owners of a fleet in whose employ he had been for some years. Where
he got the money from to purchase a trawler was a mystery to most
people, although it was discovered later that a betting-man was in
partnership with him.

Charlie, being satisfied that the skipper intended to make an attempt to
swindle his father, was anxious to get back to Lincoln as speedily as
possible to make known what he had discovered. He had forgotten to ask
the bow-legged cook how long the _Sparrow-hawk_ would remain at sea, and
could, therefore, form no idea of when he would get home.

(_Continued on page 218._)

[Illustration: "The skipper cruelly kicked the Chinaman."]

[Illustration: "'Can he do this?' Charlie asked."]

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(_Continued from page 215._)

While Charlie was regretting his ignorance of trawlers' movements, Ping
Wang appeared at the galley-door.

'Well,' Charlie said, 'has the skipper said anything more to you?'

'No,' Ping Wang answered, smilingly; 'I believe you have frightened him.
But he will pay you out somehow or other.'

'I hope, for his own sake, that he won't attempt to, for I hate the
little fellow already, and if he interferes with me unnecessarily I will
give him a sound thrashing.'

'He is very strong,' Ping Wang remarked, warningly.

'Can he do this?' Charlie asked, catching hold of a bucket full of water
and holding it easily at arm's-length straight from the shoulder.

Ping Wang made no reply but gazed at Charlie in astonishment. Charlie
was slightly built, and Ping Wang had no idea that he was so strong. But
he had gone in for a course of physical development exercises before
coming to Grimsby, and was in fine condition.

'If the skipper thinks, as I did, that you are not very strong,' he said
at last, 'he will be very surprised.'

'Well,' Charlie said, rather pleased at the astonishment he had caused,
'let us forget him for a time. When do we return to Grimsby?'

'In three or four days.'

'So soon? I thought we were out for three weeks, at the least. I had an
idea that steam trawlers always remained out for three weeks.'

'Boats belonging to the fleets do. A steam carrier collects the boxes of
fish from them every morning, and carries them off to London. But single
boaters have to take in their own fish to Grimsby, and therefore they
have to run in every few days, or else the fish wouldn't be fresh.'

'Then I shan't have to endure the skipper for as long as I expected.'

'You'll have to endure him for seven or eight weeks, I'm afraid. When we
run in just to land fish we are not allowed to quit the ship. After
unloading we sail as soon as possible.'

'But do you mean to say that he can prevent my leaving the ship at
Grimsby?'

'I believe he can. You see, if men were allowed to leave whenever they
liked, the fishing industry would soon be upset.'

'I didn't think of that. However, I will get a substitute if possible.
There will be no objection to that, I suppose?'

'I don't know. The skipper is a curious kind of fellow, and he may
refuse to let you go, so that he may have the pleasure of bullying you.
Why don't you pretend that you are ill? He would put you ashore very
soon then.'

'I don't like the idea of getting out of an unpleasant position in that
way. By-the-bye, how do you pass the time away before hauling the
trawl?'

'Some of the men turn in, and others play cards or draughts. Do you care
about draughts?'

'Oh, yes, but I won't go down in the foc's'le to play.'

'I will bring the board up here if it is not being used.'

Ping Wang hurried away, and returned in a minute or two with the
draughts.

'They are having a sing-song in the foc's'le,' he said. 'The skipper is
there, and is a little bit the worse for drink.'

CHAPTER IV.

Charlie won the first game at draughts, and they had just begun a second
when the skipper suddenly appeared at the galley door. His face was
flushed, and there was a wild look in his eyes.

'The galley is not the place for playing draughts,' he said, and with
his hand swept the pieces off the board.

Charlie and Ping Wang made no remark. It was plain to them that he had
paid that visit for the sole purpose of bullying them, and they were
wondering what his next complaint would be.

'I want a mug of tea,' he said, seeing that the kettle was not boiling.

Charlie put the kettle on the fire at once.

'That's the result of playing draughts when you ought to be at work,'
the skipper growled. 'I always want some tea at this time.'

'In future it shall be ready, sir,' Charles replied, calmly.

'Future--eh?--I want it now. What's that Chinee doing here?'

'I thought you noticed that Ping Wang was playing draughts with me.'

'You're not paid to think. I do that for all the crew.'

Then the skipper turned his attention to prying into the pots and pans,
to see if he could discover anything which would give him an opportunity
to find fault. To his evident annoyance he did not succeed in
discovering anything, for Charlie had done his work thoroughly, and the
cooking utensils looked much cleaner than when he entered on his duties.

In a few minutes the tea was ready, and as soon as the skipper tasted it
he made a grimace, and exclaimed, 'Beastly wash!--Do you hear?' he
exclaimed, finding that Charlie did not speak. 'It's wash!'

'It is made in exactly the same way as the other tea you have had during
the day,' Charlie declared.

'Then I must have drunk wash before. But I won't drink this. Here,
Chinee, you drink it.'

'Me no want any, skipper,' Ping Wang answered.

'Don't want it, eh? What does that matter? Drink it at once.'

Ping Wang shook his head, and the skipper immediately flung the contents
of his mug full in the Chinaman's face. The tea was very hot, and with a
cry of pain Ping Wang ran at his tormentor. Stepping backwards quickly,
to avoid him, the skipper stumbled over the weather-board at the
entrance to the galley, and fell heavily on to the deck.

The mate, who had been pacing the deck, ran to pick him up. 'What's the
matter, skipper?' he asked.

'That Chinee has knocked me down,' the skipper declared.

'He did nothing of the kind,' Charlie declared, and related to the mate
exactly what happened.

'You'd better get an hour or two's sleep before we haul,' the mate said
to the skipper, and, taking his arm, led him away.

'I think we had better turn in also,' Ping Wang said, and Charlie at
once went forward with him.

The other men were already asleep. The ventilators were all closed, and
the foc's'le was so close and stuffy that Charlie thought, at first,
that he would have to go on deck again. But, being very tired, he
determined to stay where he was, and clambered into his bunk. He slept
soundly, in spite of the bad air, until Ping Wang aroused him. It was a
quarter to eleven, and the men were donning their oilskins, with a view
to hauling.

'You had better put the kettle on,' Ping Wang said to Charlie; 'all
hands will want tea before they turn in again.'

Charlie, wearing his oilskins, went to the galley at once. As he passed
along the deck he shivered, for a breeze had sprung up, and the air
struck cold, after the stuffiness of the foc's'le.

(_Continued on page 226._)

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S HEAD GARDENER.

'We must not forget the gardener,' says a visitor, describing Walmer
Castle at the time when Wellington was Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports.
This gardener, a fine-looking, elderly man, was at the battle of
Waterloo, and when his regiment was disbanded, the Duke offered him the
post of head gardener at Walmer Castle.

The good fellow objected, for, to use his own words, he 'did not then
know a moss rose from a cabbage,' but the Duke was determined, and, as a
soldier, the man could but obey orders. 'But now,' he said to the
visitor, 'I get on pretty well.'

'And like it?' he was next asked.

'Oh, yes.'

'But suppose war were to break out--would you be a soldier again?'

'Why, that must depend on the Duke: if he said I must go, of course I
must.'

'How did you manage when you first came here?'

'Why, as well as I could. It was rather awkward.'

'Perhaps you studied hard--read a good deal?'

'No, I didn't read at all.'

'You looked about you, then?'

'Yes, I did that.'

'And now you get on very well?'

'Why, yes; but I am plagued sometimes: the names of the flowers puzzle
me sadly.'

'And what does the Duke say to that?'

'Oh, I have him there,' said the soldier gardener, 'for he doesn't know
them himself!'

The visitor also stated that the garden abounded in flowers--not rare
ones, but rich and luxuriant, with a well-kept lawn, in the midst of
which was a lime-tree, which the Duke always declared to be the finest
he had ever seen.

The experiment of turning a soldier into a head gardener seems to have
been quite successful.

TWO MEDALS.

A little English schoolboy was sauntering along the quay, looking rather
bored. It was a picturesque scene--this port of the Black Sea--with the
varied craft in the harbour, and the varied nationalities represented by
the groups of men who chattered and gesticulated, or lounged and slept
in the sunshine.

But what, he thought, were the summer holidays without cricket? Of
course, it was jolly to be with his people again, but Dick did wish they
lived in England. The boys at school had envied him because his journey
home would take him through the unrestful Balkan territory, and he might
have all manner of adventures. It was very hard that there had been
none, though the train after his had been held up, and had not got
through without some fighting.

He reached the end of the stone pier, where half-a-dozen men were
leaning over a low parapet.

'What is your pleasure, little Milord?' one asked him. This was their
nickname for the boy, who had been a favourite with them since he had
learnt to order them about in their own tongue when not much more than a
baby.

'My pleasure is a cricket match,' he answered, 'and as far as I can see
it is a pleasure I shall have to do without.'

'Would not little Milord like to fish?' asked another. 'See, one already
is trying his luck,' and he pointed to a boy about Dick's age sitting on
the parapet with his line in the water below.

'A foolish place to try, with the current running as strong as it does
round the end of the pier,' Dick said. 'He is not likely to get a bite
there.'

Even as he spoke the boy jumped up suddenly and turned round. No one saw
exactly how it happened, but he missed his balance, and with a scream
fell into the water.

For a minute Dick waited. He was such a little chap, and of course one
of those big men would jump in after the boy. But no! they stood staring
at each other with terrified faces, and never moved.

Then over the wall went Dick into the water beneath. The boy had risen,
and he struck out for him, reaching him easily enough, for the current
carried him. It was getting back which was difficult.

The men at the pier-head ran about and shouted in a frantic way. 'A
boat!' shouted one. 'A rope!' called another; while a third wrung his
hands and moaned, 'They are lost! they are lost!'

And Dick battled and battled against the current with the dead weight of
the boy hindering him from making any perceptible way. It never even
occurred to him that by letting his burden go he might at any rate save
himself. And his English pluck came to his help. He wouldn't be beaten.
He just _had_ to get to land somehow, and he must not let himself think
of anything else. The men, too, had at last found a rope and were
flinging it to him. If only he could get near it! Once it was just
within his grasp, but he was beaten back again. Then, with a final
tremendous effort, he struck out again and reached it, and held on like
grim death, though the singing in his ears and his struggling, panting
breath warned him his strength was nearly exhausted. By this time,
however, a boat was nearing them, and soon the boys were on land, though
the lad Dick had saved was with difficulty brought back to
consciousness.

Dick himself was rather white and limp, but otherwise not much the worse
for his adventure.

'Why didn't one of you go in after him? I gave you a chance,' he said to
the men.

'The water was too cold,' muttered one.

'Too deep!' said another.

'Too dangerous!' growled a third.

And the small schoolboy shrugged his shoulders and went home, to be made
a great fuss over by his mother and sisters, which he thought absurd;
but he liked the quiet look of pleasure his father gave him when he came
in after hearing the news in the town, though he only said, 'Good
business, my son!'

And although he is very shy of showing them, I think Dick is rather
proud of his two medals: one of the country where the courageous act was
performed, and that other of dull bronze which the Royal Humane Society
presents to England's brave sons and daughters.

Dick thought it took far more courage to walk up and receive this medal
amidst the cheers of the boys and their gay company on Prize-day, than
it did to jump in to the rescue of the boy in the Black Sea.

ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.

True Anecdotes.

I.--INSTEAD OF A HAND.

[Illustration: "The elephant uses his nose as a hand."]

The wonderful contrivances by which animals manage to do beautiful work
without tools, to walk without feet, to fly without wings, to talk
without a voice, and to make their wants known not only to each other
but to their human friends, without understanding or speaking human
words, would fill a large book. No creature boasts of a hand like our
own; even that of the monkey, though his fingers resemble man's, has a
thumb which is nearly useless. The American spider-monkeys prefer to use
their long tails as hands, plucking fruits with the tips and carrying
them to their mouths. The elephant uses his nose as a hand (for his
trunk is nothing else but a long nose), and with this makeshift hand he
can pick up either a heavy cannon or a sixpence from the ground. The
horse uses his tail as a hand to drive off flies which he cannot
otherwise reach. On board ship a hen was once seen to use her neck as a
hand. She and the other fowls used to quarrel over the laying-boxes, and
though the nests looked all alike to a human eye, this hen coveted one
special box, and would lay nowhere else. One day her master took the
china nest-egg out of the box and put it into another one, to see what
she would do. He watched her through the chink of a door, and saw her
hunt till she found the egg, curl her neck round it like a big finger,
lift it thus, and carry it back to the old box, where she sat on it in
triumph.

Stories of rats who have been seen to carry off eggs, embracing them by
their tails, are common enough, and everybody has watched animals of
different kinds using their mouths to carry things from place to place.
Not only lions, tigers, wolves, and bears carry their young in this way,
but rabbits, squirrels, mice, and many other creatures. The mother-whale
tucks her little one under her huge fin, using it as a hand and arm in
one; in time of danger she carries him off thus at the risk of her own
life from under the very harpoons of the whalers.

All young animals have an instinct which prompts them to run to their
parents for protection when frightened, trusting not only in the older
and wiser heads, but in the faithful hearts which have never failed
them. Though sheep, cattle, deer, and such-like, have no notion of using
their jaws as hands, or of lifting their little ones, many of the young
will use their limbs to cling to those who are stronger and swifter
than themselves. The four-footed elders will perish rather than desert
the youngsters, and will, if possible, contrive to beat a retreat,
helping along the weaker ones as best they can.