352 ONCE A
his aunt’s stables, and when Calomel spoke of a
pistol which he possessed, the other declared that
Dobbs should only have seen the rabbit* shooting
in Yorkshire, and moreover stated that there were
hanging up in his father’s house in Liverpool two
guns, four pistols, and a sword, of which he in-
tended to avail himself during the next holidays.
“By the bye,” said Calomel, rather sneeringly, (and we all at once remembered that the question hadn’t been asked before, but it was out of all rule, you see, a fellow coming in in the dark): “what is your father?”
“My father?” said the new chap very quietly, “Oh, he’s a pirate.”
“A what?” shouted Calomel, jumping straight upright in bed, and bo loud, that the other had only time to repeat in the same matter-of-fact way “A pirate,” before we heard old Mac come out of the sitting-room, and along the passage to our door. Down went Dobbs in such a hurry, that we heard his head go with a great bang against the bed’s; so that he couldn’t help giving a loud “Oh!” though the rest of us were breathing very hard, to make believe we were asleep.
Mac called out that if he heard any more noise, he would do what Bhould keep us awake for some time, and then went off.
More would very likely have been said then, so great was the sensation caused by the new fellow’s declaration, but as we didn’t hear Mac’s sitting- room door shut again, we couldn’t tell but that he was somewhere listening.
Not that there was anything of the sneak in Mac; only he liked to catch fellows at it. Very different to old Wiggy, whose real name was Girard, and who was hated by everybody for coaxing (or cogling as we used to call it) till he got something against the fellows, and then making their knuckles black and blue with a big door key. There was no time to say much next morn- ing, for every one always lay in bed as long as he dared after the first bell rang, and had only time to jump into his clothes, and get down to prayers before the second bell stopped. Calomel just asked once during dressing, so as to prevent any mistake, “What did you say your father was, last night, you sir?” But the reply was just given in the same cool way, “A pirate.” Calomel said no more.
After breakfast, however, a lot of us got together in the play-ground, and talked the matter over. The existence of pirates was beyond question: there was no reason to doubt that they possessed sons like other people, and perhaps left their busi- nesses to them; but we were not aware of any recorded case in which such sons had been sent to a “classical and commercial academy,” as Mac’s was called in the prospectus. We couldn’t help allowing, however, that the new fellow’s manner was favourable and convincing. We argued, too, that if this gentleman were really a pirate, it would account for the possession not only of the three watches, which were doubtless acquired in the exercise of his profession, but also of the guns, pistols, and sword, which would be to him in that case the merest necessaries of existence. In short, most of us inclined to the belief, that the new fellow’s story was true; though a few, headed by
WEV.IT. [October 29, 1869.
Calomel, urged that we had only his word for it,
and that we knew nothing of him. But then
Calomel was jealous, and no wonder: he had been
the chief authority on such points for so long, that
he wasn’t likely to relish giving in, as he would
have to do, of course, to a fellow with such advan-
tages of birth.
However, we agreed to ask Hartley more about it, and by way of beginning, we proposed that he should show us the watch his aunt had given him. He pulled it out at once: it was an old silver one, very nearly round, so that it made a great swelling upon his chest, as he wore it in his waistcoat pocket. It had a great effect on the fellows; it was just such a watch as might have been buried in an iron chest for ever so long, and though it didn’t come from his father, but from his aunt, that was nothing; it was in the family. It clinched his story, and we christened him “Cross- bones ” on the spot. As for the watch, that always was called “Oliver Cromwell,” it was so old and solid.
You may be sure we asked Crossbones a good many questions about his father, but at first he didn’t seem to think much about the matter; and it was only after a week or two’s listening to the bedroom readings that he began to let out by degrees, and gave us at different times a good many particulars: how that his father’s vessel was a regular clipper, carried one hundred guns, had a crew of eighty men (many of them blacks), and was called the Blue Blazer; the guns he thought, when pressed on the point, were from one hun- dred and eighty to two hundred pounders. He stated, moreover, that the meals both of officers and crew were always served on gold plates and dishes, which were mere drugs on board by rea- son of their abundance; and that the only beverage ever touched was rum with gunpowder in it — all which his father had told him in moments of confidence.
This beat books into fits; and even Calomel felt that he must give in, which he did, and became a great chum of Crosabones. Between them they established a society, of which every member was to swear solemnly not to let out anything; which he couldn’t have done if he wished, as there was nothing to let out. How- ever, we all tied up the ends of our fingers with twine in the bedroom one night, and having pricked them with a quill pen, let them bleed into a gill cup, over which we then took the oath on a prayer-book. The chief rule was, that no member should speak to another member about the society’s affairs, without first putting his right forefinger to the side of his nose, and saying, “Blood?” If all right, the other member put his finger to his nose, and said, “Thunder!” then they both whistled, and then it was all right. Of course everybody knew the other members, but it was necessary to be very particular — societies always are. Crossbones and Calomel were first and second officers, and at first everybody was doing nothing but whistling and blooding and thundering; but after a time it got tiresome, having nothing more to say when you found you were at liberty to speak. Besides, the fellows got
into a way of laughing so that they couldn’t