"Well, Dore's time of servitude was up for the smuggling affair, and soon after that the brig put into Portsmouth harbour. The next day Dore got leave to go and see his friends, so he hired a wherry, and got ready for a start for Yarmouth. Just as he was shoving off, I saw him and asked him for a cast down there, as I had some friends in those days in the same place. Now, though he was an officer with a c.o.c.ked hat on his head, and a sword by his side, I knew that he was in no way proud, at all events. He told me to jump into the boat, by all means. On our way down I asked him if he was going to be long away from his ship.

"'Long away, do you say?' he answered, in an indignant tone. 'I'll tell you what it is, Vincent, it will be long, I'm thinking, before I go back again. I've been made an officer of, it's true, but I haven't been treated as one or looked on as one, because I wasn't born a gentleman, and slavery in a c.o.c.ked hat I, for one, will not bear.'

"In that way he talked till we got pretty nearly down to Yarmouth. At last he worked himself up into a regular rage, for he was a pa.s.sionate man, do you see.

"'Give us a knife, some one of you,' he sang out.

"I handed him mine. When he got it, he began cutting off the b.u.t.tons from his coat. Then he unbuckled his sword, and took off his hat. He jumped up, and holding all the things together, as it were in a lump, he hove them away into the sea as far from him as he could, uttering at the same time a loud and deep curse. 'There goes the last link of the chain that binds me to slavery!' he exclaimed. 'Now, my lads, I'm once more Jim Dore, the bold smuggler.'

"The men in the boat thought what he had done was very fine, and so did I in those days, and so we all cheered him over and over again. When he landed at Yarmouth, every one turned out to welcome him as if he had been an admiral just come home after a great victory; and certainly the people did make much of him. Those Yarmouth men are great smugglers, there's no doubt about it. I don't think, however, myself, as I did in those days. Dore was a brave man, and it's a great pity he had not been taught better, and he might have been an ornament to the service he deserted.

"When his leave was up, and he did not return, an officer with a boat's crew was sent to look for him. He got notice of their coming, and got stowed out of the way, for there were plenty of people to help him. He had to keep in hiding for a long time, and often, I dare say, he wished himself back aboard the brig. When the war was over he took to smuggling again, and he soon got command of a large cutter. At last he and some other Yarmouth men went away in her, and from that day to this have never been heard of. It is supposed that the cutter was run down or foundered in a tremendous gale of wind, which sprung up soon after she was last seen."

One of our friends who came from Poole in Dorsetshire, told us a very good story, when Jerry Vincent and one or two others sang out in chorus, "Howe! howe! howe!"

I asked what they meant.

"That is what we always say to a Poole man," answered Jerry. "Did you never hear tell of the Poole man and the owl?"

I told him that I never had, and asked him for the story.

"Well, you must know that once upon a time there was a homeward-bound Poole man just coming up Channel, and not far off the land, when, the night being somewhat dark, do ye see, an old owl flew by 'Howe! howe!

howe!' cried the owl.

"The master, who had been dozing aft, thinking all the time, exactly as many another man does, that he was wide awake, just heard the sound as he roused up, and fancied that another skipper was hailing him.

"'From Newfoundland!' he sang out, rubbing his eyes, and dreaming that he saw the strange ship abeam.

"'Howe! howe! howe!' hooted the owl again.

"'With fish,' answered the Poole man.

"'Howe! howe! howe!' once more cried the old owl, as he was flying off.

"'Over Poole bar with the next tide, please the pigs,' sang out the skipper at the top of his voice, for fear those in the other craft wouldn't otherwise hear him. Nothing would ever persuade him that he hadn't been talking all the time with the skipper of some outward-bound craft.

"That's all very well, and it is not a bad story, and may be true, or it may not; but you Hampshire men are not all of you so very clever,"

answered Mr Bexley, our Poole friend, who had himself been skipper of a merchantman. "Have none of you ever heard speak of Botley a.s.sizes, eh?"

I asked him what he meant.

"Why," he answered, "you know Botley isn't very far from Southampton.

Once upon a time a party of young chaps belonging to Botley were returning from a merry-making of some sort, and as it happened, all of them but one were more than three sheets in the wind. For some reason or other, nothing would make this one touch a drop of liquor. As they were walking along they began to jeer him, and at last they declared that he had been guilty of a capital offence, because he had let the gla.s.s pa.s.s by, and they agreed that they would try him. Well, they came to a place near a wood, where there were a number of trees cut down, and there they all sat round, and the accused was placed in the middle. The most drunk of the party was chosen as judge, and the others were the counsel, some to accuse and the others to defend him.

"The poor fellow tried to get away, but his friends would not let him.

He, of course, had nothing to say for himself, except that he did not choose to drink, and the upshot of his trial was that he was condemned to be hung.

"Unfortunately one of them had a rope with him, and without more ado they ran up the culprit to the nearest tree. To be sure, they did intend to put the rope round his waist, but they were too drunk to know exactly what they were about, and by mistake slipped it, Jack Ketch fashion, round his neck. Having done this wise trick, they all ran away, shrieking with laughter at the cleverness of their joke.

"They were very much surprised to find, the next morning, that the poor fellow was missing. At last they went out to look for him, and found him hanging where they had left him, but as dead as a church door.

"So, gentlemen, you see that the people in those parts are very clever chaps, and if you take them at their own value, there are none to be found like them in all the world. I have another story for you to prove this.

"One day a poor Jew fell into the Itchen.

"'Oh, shave me! shave me! vil no one shave me?' he sang out; but of all the people standing round there wasn't one who would touch him with his fingers, because they looked on him as a dirty old Jew.

"At last they thought that though he was a Jew it was a shame to let him drown, so half-a-dozen or more of them ran off to get a rake to haul him out. One couldn't find a rake, and another couldn't find a rake; so, long before they came back, the poor Jew was drowned. That is the reason why we say, when a chap is a long time doing a thing that he ought to have done in a hurry, 'He's gone for a rake to haul out the Jew.'"

"Ay, ay, Mr Bexley, but you know what the Poole man did when his pig got his head through the bars of the gate?" exclaimed Jerry Vincent, with a good-natured laugh. "Why, you see, mates, when he found that he couldn't haul it out, to save trouble he cut off the beast's head. Some people in our parts would have sawed through the bars, but we don't pretend to be wise, you know.

"I don't mind telling a story against ourselves. Did any of you ever hear why the Downton people are called 'Moonrakers'? They themselves don't mind hearing the story. Once upon a time, some Downton men had sunk some tubs in a big pond, and they were hard at work all night raking them up. While they were still engaged, who should come by but a party of custom-house people.

"'What are you doing there, men?' they asked. 'Some mischief, no doubt.'

"'Oh, no! please, kind gentlemen, we are only trying to rake the moon out of this pond,' answered the Downton men, quite in a simple voice.

You see that the moon was at the time shining brightly down into the pond.

"'Oh! is that all?' said the custom-house people, thinking that they were a few simpletons escaped out of a madhouse. On went the custom-house people. After a little time they came back. The smugglers had just got out their last tub. Some clouds meantime had come over the moon. 'Well, my men, have you got the moon at last?' said the custom-house officer.

"'Oh, yes! there's little doubt about it, for it's no longer there. If we haven't got it, perhaps you can tell us who has.'

"This made the custom-house people feel sure that they were right in their conjectures; so on they went, little dreaming of the prize they had lost."

We all laughed heartily at Jerry Vincent's and Mr Bexley's stories.

"I'll tell you a story, for the truth of which I can vouch," said Uncle Kelson. "The circ.u.mstance only lately happened. So, strange as it may seem, there is no doubt about it. You all have heard speak of Sir Harry Burrard Neale, who commands just now the King's yacht, the _Royal Charlotte_. The boatswain of her is a friend of mine, and last summer he got me a cast down to Weymouth, where I wanted to go to see the widow of an old shipmate I had promised to look after. We were just clear of the Needles. There was a light breeze and a smooth sea, when we made out a small boat standing towards us, seemingly as if she had come out of Poole harbour or Swanage.

"'She seems to me to be a fishing-boat, and as if she wanted to speak us, Sir Harry,' said the first lieutenant, who had been spying at her through his gla.s.s.

"'So I see,' answered the captain. 'There seem to be two people in her making signals. It will not delay us much, so heave the ship to, and let us learn what they want.'

"This was just like Sir Harry. Many a captain would have stood on and taken no notice of a poor fisherman's boat, even had there been a dozen people waving in her. In a little time the boat came alongside, with a man and a woman in her, and they were certainly the rummest old couple you ever saw in your life.

"A midshipman hailed them, and asked them what they wanted. As well as we could make out, for they spoke very broad Scotch, they said that they wanted their son.

"'Let them come aboard,' said Sir Harry kindly, 'and we will hear what they have to say.'

"With no little difficulty, after a good deal of pulling and hauling, we got the old couple upon deck, and led them aft to Sir Harry.

"'For whom are you inquiring, my good people?' asked the captain.

"'Our bairn, sir--our ain bairn,' answered the old lady. 'For many a weary week have we been looking for him, and never have our eyes rested on his bonnie face since the black day, near five long years ago, when he was carried away from us. Ah! it was a sair day, sirs.'

"'What is your son's name, my good people?' asked Sir Harry.

"'David, sir--Davie Campbell. He was so called after his grandfather, who died in '45, with mony other brave men,' answered the old dame.

"'We have a man of that name on board, sir,' remarked the first lieutenant to the captain. 'He is in the watch below. It will be strange if he should prove to be the man these poor souls are searching for.'