Chapter V. I Go to the Queen's Ferry

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　Much rain fell in the night; and the next morning there blew abitter wintry wind out of the north-west, driving scatteredclouds. For all that, and before the sun began to peep or thelast of the stars had vanished, I made my way to the side of theburn, and had a plunge in a deep whirling pool. All aglow frommy bath, I sat down once more beside the fire, which Ireplenished, and began gravely to consider my position.There was now no doubt about my uncle's enmity; there was nodoubt I carried my life in my hand, and he would leave no stoneunturned that he might compass my destruction. But I was youngand spirited, and like most lads that have been country-bred, Ihad a great opinion of my shrewdness. I had come to his door nobetter than a beggar and little more than a child; he had met mewith treachery and violence; it would be a fine consummation totake the upper hand, and drive him like a herd of sheep.I sat there nursing my knee and smiling at the fire; and I sawmyself in fancy smell out his secrets one after another, and growto be that man's king and ruler. The warlock of Essendean, theysay, had made a mirror in which men could read the future; itmust have been of other stuff than burning coal; for in all theshapes and pictures that I sat and gazed at, there was never aship, never a seaman with a hairy cap, never a big bludgeon formy silly head, or the least sign of all those tribulations thatwere ripe to fall on me.Presently, all swollen with conceit, I went up-stairs and gave myprisoner his liberty. He gave me good-morning civilly; and Igave the same to him, smiling down upon him, from the heights ofmy sufficiency. Soon we were set to breakfast, as it might havebeen the day before."Well, sir," said I, with a jeering tone, "have you nothing moreto say to me?" And then, as he made no articulate reply, "It willbe time, I think, to understand each other," I continued. "Youtook me for a country Johnnie Raw, with no more mother-wit orcourage than a porridge-stick. I took you for a good man, or noworse than others at the least. It seems we were both wrong.What cause you have to fear me, to cheat me, and to attempt mylife--"He murmured something about a jest, and that he liked a bit offun; and then, seeing me smile, changed his tone, and assured mehe would make all clear as soon as we had breakfasted. I saw byhis face that he had no lie ready for me, though he was hard atwork preparing one; and I think I was about to tell him so, whenwe were interrupted by a knocking at the door.Bidding my uncle sit where he was, I went to open it, and foundon the doorstep a half-grown boy in sea-clothes. He had nosooner seen me than he began to dance some steps of thesea-hornpipe (which I had never before heard of far less seen),snapping his fingers in the air and footing it right cleverly.For all that, he was blue with the cold; and there was somethingin his face, a look between tears and laughter, that was highlypathetic and consisted ill with this gaiety of manner."What cheer, mate?" says he, with a cracked voice.I asked him soberly to name his pleasure."O, pleasure!" says he; and then began to sing:"For it's my delight, of a shiny night,In the season of the year.""Well," said I, "if you have no business at all, I will even beso unmannerly as to shut you out.""Stay, brother!" he cried. "Have you no fun about you? or do youwant to get me thrashed? I've brought a letter from old Heasyoasyto Mr. Belflower." He showed me a letter as he spoke. "And Isay, mate," he added, "I'm mortal hungry.""Well," said I, "come into the house, and you shall have a biteif I go empty for it."With that I brought him in and set him down to my own place,where he fell-to greedily on the remains of breakfast, winking tome between whiles, and making many faces, which I think the poorsoul considered manly. Meanwhile, my uncle had read the letterand sat thinking; then, suddenly, he got to his feet with a greatair of liveliness, and pulled me apart into the farthest cornerof the room."Read that," said he, and put the letter in my hand.Here it is, lying before me as I write:"The Hawes Inn, at the Queen's Ferry."Sir, -- I lie here with my hawser up and down, and send mycabin-boy to informe. If you have any further commands forover-seas, to-day will be the last occasion, as the wind willserve us well out of the firth. I will not seek to deny that Ihave had crosses with your doer,[4] Mr. Rankeillor; of which, ifnot speedily redd up, you may looke to see some losses follow. Ihave drawn a bill upon you, as per margin, and am, sir, your mostobedt., humble servant,"ELIAS HOSEASON."[4] Agent."You see, Davie," resumed my uncle, as soon as he saw that I haddone, "I have a venture with this man Hoseason, the captain of atrading brig, the Covenant, of Dysart. Now, if you and me was towalk over with yon lad, I could see the captain at the Hawes, ormaybe on board the Covenant if there was papers to be signed; andso far from a loss of time, we can jog on to the lawyer, Mr.Rankeillor's. After a' that's come and gone, ye would beswier[5] to believe me upon my naked word; but ye'll believeRankeillor. He's factor to half the gentry in these parts; anauld man, forby: highly respeckit, and he kenned your father."[5] Unwilling.I stood awhile and thought. I was going to some place ofshipping, which was doubtless populous, and where my uncle durstattempt no violence, and, indeed, even the society of thecabin-boy so far protected me. Once there, I believed I couldforce on the visit to the lawyer, even if my uncle were nowinsincere in proposing it; and, perhaps, in the bottom of myheart, I wished a nearer view of the sea and ships. You are toremember I had lived all my life in the inland hills, and justtwo days before had my first sight of the firth lying like a bluefloor, and the sailed ships moving on the face of it, no biggerthan toys. One thing with another, I made up my mind."Very well," says I, "let us go to the Ferry."My uncle got into his hat and coat, and buckled an old rustycutlass on; and then we trod the fire out, locked the door, andset forth upon our walk.The wind, being in that cold quarter the north-west, blew nearlyin our faces as we went. It was the month of June; the grass wasall white with daisies, and the trees with blossom; but, to judgeby our blue nails and aching wrists, the time might have beenwinter and the whiteness a December frost.Uncle Ebenezer trudged in the ditch, jogging from side to sidelike an old ploughman coming home from work. He never said aword the whole way; and I was thrown for talk on the cabin-boy.He told me his name was Ransome, and that he had followed the seasince he was nine, but could not say how old he was, as he hadlost his reckoning. He showed me tattoo marks, baring his breastin the teeth of the wind and in spite of my remonstrances, for Ithought it was enough to kill him; he swore horribly whenever heremembered, but more like a silly schoolboy than a man; andboasted of many wild and bad things that he had done: stealthythefts, false accusations, ay, and even murder; but all with sucha dearth of likelihood in the details, and such a weak and crazyswagger in the delivery, as disposed me rather to pity than tobelieve him.I asked him of the brig (which he declared was the finest shipthat sailed) and of Captain Hoseason, in whose praises he wasequally loud. Heasyoasy (for so he still named the skipper) wasa man, by his account, that minded for nothing either in heavenor earth; one that, as people said, would "crack on all sail intothe day of judgment;" rough, fierce, unscrupulous, and brutal;and all this my poor cabin-boy had taught himself to admire assomething seamanlike and manly. He would only admit one flaw inhis idol. "He ain't no seaman," he admitted. "That's Mr. Shuanthat navigates the brig; he's the finest seaman in the trade,only for drink; and I tell you I believe it! Why, look'ere;" andturning down his stocking he showed me a great, raw, red woundthat made my blood run cold. "He done that -- Mr. Shuan doneit," he said, with an air of pride."What!" I cried, "do you take such savage usage at his hands?Why, you are no slave, to be so handled!""No," said the poor moon-calf, changing his tune at once, "and sohe'll find. See'ere;" and he showed me a great case-knife, whichhe told me was stolen. "O," says he, "let me see him, try; Idare him to; I'll do for him! O, he ain't the first!" And heconfirmed it with a poor, silly, ugly oath.I have never felt such pity for any one in this wide world as Ifelt for that half-witted creature, and it began to come over methat the brig Covenant (for all her pious name) was little betterthan a hell upon the seas."Have you no friends?" said I.He said he had a father in some English seaport, I forget which."He was a fine man, too," he said, "but he's dead.""In Heaven's name," cried I, "can you find no reputable life onshore?""O, no," says he, winking and looking very sly, "they would putme to a trade. I know a trick worth two of that, I do!"I asked him what trade could be so dreadful as the one hefollowed, where he ran the continual peril of his life, not alonefrom wind and sea, but by the horrid cruelty of those who werehis masters. He said it was very true; and then began to praisethe life, and tell what a pleasure it was to get on shore withmoney in his pocket, and spend it like a man, and buy apples, andswagger, and surprise what he called stick-in-the-mud boys. "Andthen it's not all as bad as that," says he; "there's worse offthan me: there's the twenty-pounders. O, laws! you should seethem taking on. Why, I've seen a man as old as you, I dessay" --(to him I seemed old)-- "ah, and he had a beard, too -- well, andas soon as we cleared out of the river, and he had the drug outof his head -- my! how he cried and carried on! I made a finefool of him, I tell you! And then there's little uns, too: oh,little by me! I tell you, I keep them in order. When we carrylittle uns, I have a rope's end of my own to wollop'em." And sohe ran on, until it came in on me what he meant bytwenty-pounders were those unhappy criminals who were sentover-seas to slavery in North America, or the still more unhappyinnocents who were kidnapped or trepanned (as the word went) forprivate interest or vengeance.Just then we came to the top of the hill, and looked down on theFerry and the Hope. The Firth of Forth (as is very well known)narrows at this point to the width of a good-sized river, whichmakes a convenient ferry going north, and turns the upper reachinto a landlocked haven for all manner of ships. Right in themidst of the narrows lies an islet with some ruins; on the southshore they have built a pier for the service of the Ferry; and atthe end of the pier, on the other side of the road, and backedagainst a pretty garden of holly-trees and hawthorns, I could seethe building which they called the Hawes Inn.The town of Queensferry lies farther west, and the neighbourhoodof the inn looked pretty lonely at that time of day, for the boathad just gone north with passengers. A skiff, however, laybeside the pier, with some seamen sleeping on the thwarts; this,as Ransome told me, was the brig's boat waiting for the captain;and about half a mile off, and all alone in the anchorage, heshowed me the Covenant herself. There was a sea-going bustle onboard; yards were swinging into place; and as the wind blew fromthat quarter, I could hear the song of the sailors as they pulledupon the ropes. After all I had listened to upon the way, Ilooked at that ship with an extreme abhorrence; and from thebottom of my heart I pitied all poor souls that were condemned tosail in her.We had all three pulled up on the brow of the hill; and now Imarched across the road and addressed my uncle. "I think itright to tell you, sir." says I, "there's nothing that willbring me on board that Covenant."He seemed to waken from a dream. "Eh?" he said. "What's that?"I told him over again."Well, well," he said, "we'll have to please ye, I suppose. Butwhat are we standing here for? It's perishing cold; and if I'm nomistaken, they're busking the Covenant for sea."