Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/364



Octobir 29,  I860.]

CROSSBONES’ FATHER.

353

whistle, and  in  a short  time  the  society  pretty  well died out.

Then we  took  to  digging  caves,  but  after  one fell in  upon  little  Binns,  and  as  nearly  smothered him as  a toucher,  why  that  didn’t  prosper; so  we had  to  fall  back  upon  listening  to  Crossbones — and some  wonderful  things  he  told  us. I don’t

know whether  it  was  from  what  he  heard,  or  out of his  own  head,  that  one  of  the  fellows,  who  was very clever  that  way,  drew  and  coloured  a repre- sentation of Crossbones’  father,  whiskered  and moustached, in  a green  jacket  edged  with  fur,  red tights, big  buff  boots,  and  a brass  helmet,  with  a drawn  sword  in  one  hand,  and  a black  banner

with a skull  upon  it  in  the  other. On a cannon close by  hung  a large  blue  cloak,  supposed  to  be the  means  of  hiding  Crossbones*  father’s  pro- fessional dress from  the  public  when  he  came ashore to  visit  Crossbones  and  the  rest  of  the  family.

When this  picture  was  shown  to  Crossbones  he shook  his  head,  as  much  as  to  say  his  father  was not unlike  it,  but  more  so: so  the  lights  were touched up  a bit,  and  so  many  daggers  and  pistols hung about  the  figure,  that  you  would  have wondered there  was  room  for  them.

Well, during  the  midsummer  holidays,  as  most of our  set  went  out  of  town,  none  of  us  hap- pened to see  Crossbones; and  when  we  got  back to school,  we  found  to  our  astonishment  that  he always  fought  shy  of  our  favourite  subject  when it was  brought  up,  took  no  interest  in  the  bed- room stories, and  gave  up  the  presidency  of  the society, thereby  settling  it  altogether. None of us  could  make  out  what  had  come  over  him (though the  idea  was  started  at  one  time  that  his father  had  been  caught  and  hanged),  and  he  lost a good deal  of  popularity: and  I do  believe  none of us  would  have  cared  to  see  him  in  the  holidays, but that  on  the  last  night  of  the  half  he  redeemed

his character  nobly,  by  volunteering  to  put  eight- and-seventy cockchafers  in  old  Wiggy’s  bed. Wiggy had  quarrelled  with  Mac,  and  was  leaving; and when  next  morning  he  came  stamping  with rage into  the  schoolroom,  and  called  out  to  Mac, “Sare, dey  have  put  eensects  een  my  bed!” we all  felt  that  Crossbones  was  indeed  still  our  friend, and we  made  it  up  to  meet  him  the  first  Thursday after we  got  home.

When we  met  on  that  day — Crossbones,  Calomel, I, and  two  other  fellows — the  first  question  was what we  should  do? We all  voted  for  going straight down  to  the  river,  but  Crossbones  pro- posed bathing in  an  old  claypit  he  knew  of,  where two people  had  been  nearly  drowned,  and  which was supposed  to  be  forty  feet  deep  in  places. Of course that  was  very  tempting,  but  we  thought  it too  cold  for  bathing; and  at  last  we  settled  that it was  to  be  the  docks,  where,  however,  Cross- bones seemed  very  unwilling  to  go. We asked him if  his  father  was  at  home; but  he  said,  No; he was  in  the  West  Indies,  or  some  of  those  places, or else  we  might  have  gone  on  board  his  vessel.

On we  went,  however,  and  just  as  we  got  in sight  of  the  river,  a voice  called  out,  “Well,  Ned,