VI.—THE GIANT AND ITS ADVENTURES.
wo hundred needlewomen were busy for a month making the 'Giant's' coat. It contained twenty thousand yards of white silk, of double thickness, at six shillings a yard, and when finished measured ninety yards round and sixty yards in height. When it was filled it held 6098 cubic yards of gas. M. Nadar, its master, introduced it to the people of Paris in the hope that the money they would pay to see it would enable him to carry out his experiments with flying machines. On October 4th, 1863, the Giant was ready to make its first voyage in the clouds, and nearly five hundred thousand people assembled to see it start.
It was like a cottage made of wicker-work, and mounted on small wheels. In two of the four walls there was a door with two small windows each side of it, and inside there was a little world of wonders. The 'cottage' was only fifteen feet long, twelve wide, and eight high; but it was divided up so carefully by thin partitions that there was room for a small printing-office, a photographic department, a refreshment-room, a compartment for the captain's bed and passengers' luggage, and another at the opposite end, with three beds in it. Outside all this, but inside the walls of wicker-work, was an inflated rubber lining, so as to prevent it from sinking if, by any mischance, the 'Giant' should fall into the sea. Thus, according to circumstances, the building could be either the car of a balloon, a ship at sea, or a caravan being drawn by horses upon the wheels already mentioned along a country road. From the inside a narrow stairway led on to the roof, or deck.
When all was ready, M. Nadar, leaning from the deck, gave the word. The ropes were let go, and the Giant rose solemnly towards the sky. Fifteen voyagers waved their hats and handkerchiefs over the bulwarks, returning the greetings of the crowd till carried beyond sight and hearing.
Though the launch was a success, the poor Giant had been served very badly by some careless persons, all unknown to those on board. The pilot, a clever aeronaut, named Godard, was a little surprised that very soon after leaving the ground he had to begin throwing out ballast, to stop them from sinking. This went on for some hours, and when darkness had fallen, and all the world had disappeared, it became clear that the balloon must descend. They had attained a height of many thousand feet. It was nearly nine o'clock, and supper on deck was over, when Godard, finding that the descent was becoming too rapid, called out, 'Hold to the ropes!'
Every passenger seized some portion of the ropes, so that the shock of contact with the earth might be somewhat lessened. Down came the Giant, a great deal more swiftly than it had risen; and the last bags of ballast were emptied over the side with little effect. The blow was tremendous, and the wonder is that the passengers escaped with their lives. An inquiry was held, and the Giant itself was proved blameless. The valves for allowing the escape of gas had never been properly closed! Thus, from the very moment when they left Paris, the gas was pouring out at the top; and it was only through the enormous quantity used that they succeeded in rising at all.
A fortnight later M. Nadar was ready to sail again. This time the Giant had nine passengers, who were destined to make an eventful voyage. Anchor was weighed in the evening, and very soon, at a great height, all eyes were turned to watch the beautiful sunset. As the shadows of night gathered round them, however, more than one traveller looked anxiously at the gigantic ball above. Supposing anything should go wrong with it! It looked such a tremendous distance down to the earth.
When day dawned again at last, after a night during which no one had closed his eyes, they found themselves hanging over the fens of Holland, many miles from Paris. Fearing that the wind might carry them out to sea, they agreed to descend. But, on reaching the lower air, the huge balloon was caught in what proved to be almost a hurricane. It drove them towards the ground at a long angle, until, like a falling kite, the Giant struck the earth head foremost, dragging the car behind it at a terrible speed. The travellers hung on for dear life. Again and again the car struck, and rebounded thirty or forty feet into the air. With the first blow the valve-rope was jerked beyond reach, so that it became impossible to let the gas escape.
Mile after mile they tore through the country, crashing into trees, and scattering herds of cattle right and left. All the anchor-ropes, dropped one after the other, had been snapped like thread, the last catching in the roof of a cottage, and tearing it open before giving way. Then, to the horror of the passengers, a railway-train appeared a short distance ahead, spinning along at great speed. A collision seemed inevitable; but with one united effort they shouted to the driver. He heard them, and reversed his engine, and the next moment they whirled by, dragging telegraph wires and poles after them. And now a hero came to their rescue. Jules Godard, the pilot's brother, after many fruitless attempts, climbed into the network and secured the valve-rope. The gas was now slowly discharged, and before the bag was empty the passengers had either jumped or been jolted from the car, bruised and shaken, but happily without loss of life.
After making such a wonderful name for itself, the Giant took a short sea voyage on board a real ship, and crossed the Channel to England, and, blown out with harmless air, hung under the great glass dome of the Crystal Palace for visitors to admire. After this it made only one or two more journeys to the clouds, and ended its career as a poor captive balloon in the gardens of Cremorne.
"The driver heard them, and reversed his engine."
"One of the fishermen prevented him from sneezing again."
AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.
A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.
Much to his relief, Charlie found that the galley fire had not gone out.
'I kept it going, cook,' a grimy young trimmer declared. 'It would have gone out long ago if I hadn't looked after it. And I've filled the kettle for you. Got a bit of grub to give me?'
Charlie took out a chunk of bread, dabbed a spoonful of marmalade on top of it, and gave it to the lad.
'Any time you want anything done, I'll do it,' the trimmer declared, and departed.
As there was nothing to detain Charlie in the galley he went forward to assist in hauling. The skipper was on the bridge; the mate was working the donkey-engine, which was fast drawing in the long wire ropes attached to the net, and the deck hands stood at the starboard-side gunwale, watching for the net to appear. An electric light was hung up at the bridge, so that the men could see to do the work they had in hand. For a moment or two Charlie stood at the foot of the bridge, waiting for the skipper or the mate to tell him what to do.
'Stand here,' Ping Wang said, quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.
Charlie nodded his head and took up his position about three feet away from the Chinaman. Soon the net appeared above water, and the men, bending over the gunwale, grasped it with their hands, and, tugging all together, pulled it slowly but surely upwards.
'Where are the fish?' Charlie asked, surprised at seeing none in the part of the net at which they had been tugging.
'For'ard,' Ping Wang answered, and as he spoke the donkey-engine started panting and puffing, and the part of the net to which the Chinaman had pointed was now raised high above the gunwale. It resembled a huge cooking-net which had been lifted out of a gigantic pan. It was crowded with fish, and as it was pulled in and suspended over the pound made on the deck, the very small fish, mostly dead, fell through. Others, with wide-opened mouths, were caught in the meshes. A fisherman now stepped under the dripping net, untied it at the bottom, and sprang quickly aside as the catch of fish fell with a thud into the pound.
'What a mixture!' Charlie exclaimed as he gazed at the fish jumping, wriggling, and sliding about in the pound. 'What are they?'
'Cod, plaice, haddock, and turbot,' Ping Wang replied, but he only named a few of them. The catch included also ling, sole, whiting, dab, gurnet, oysters, crabs, whelks, cat-fish, star-fish, and a large amount of ocean scrapings.
Charlie stood watching the struggling mass, deeply interested, but Ping Wang whispered to him, 'Come away, or you'll have the skipper at you. We are going to shoot now.'
Charlie bestirred himself at once, and assisted in shooting the gear. When that had been done without a hitch, the work of sorting, cleaning, and packing the fish was begun. Three men stepped into the pound, trampling on the fish until they had made a clear space for their feet.
'Give a hand there, cook!' the skipper shouted, and Charlie stepped into the pound. He had not the heart to tread on the still living fish as the others were doing, and in his anxiety to avoid hurting them, he slipped and fell against the gunwale, his sou'-wester falling overboard. The other men stopped work at once, and looked at him in a by no means friendly way. The skipper abused him loudly and fiercely.
'It was my own sou'-wester,' Charlie declared, unable to understand why the skipper should be so excited over the loss.
'Then why don't you jump overboard and save it? We will fish you up next time we haul.'
The men laughed heartily at this grim joke.
'Take the skipper's advice, mate,' one of them said. 'I want some new boots badly.'
'It is thought a bad omen if a fisherman's sou'-wester is blown overboard,' Ping Wang explained in a whisper, whereupon Charlie laughed loudly at the superstitious idea.
'Stop that row,' the skipper shouted, 'and start cleaning the fish.'
Charlie took out his clasp-knife, and seized a plaice.
'Don't cut that,' Ping Wang warned him. 'Put the plaice in the box just as they are.'
Charlie hesitated, for the fish was not yet dead, and he did not like the idea of packing it away while it was alive.
'Here, stow it away,' a fisherman growled, and snatching it out of his hand flopped it in the box and smacked a dead fish on top of it.
The plaice were the only ones which had not to be cut open. As each fish was cleaned it was tossed into another pound, and when the whole of the catch, with the exception of the plaice, oysters, whelks, and the useless fish, were in this, the hose was turned on to the silvery mass.
When the fish had been thoroughly cleansed with water, they were packed away in boxes, which were at once stowed away in the hold between layers of ice.
Charlie was not required to assist in the work in the hold, and therefore he hurried to the bucket, on which was painted 'All hands,' and indulged in a wash. He was fortunate in being first, for fresh water is not plentiful on a trawler, and one bucketful has to suffice for the whole crew.
From the bucket, Charlie went to the galley and made the tea. Every one, from the skipper to the ship's boy, had a mugful; some had two. The North Sea fishermen are inveterate tea-drinkers.
Having drunk their tea, the men threw off their oilies and turned in again with all their clothes on.
'It isn't worth while undressing,' Ping Wang said to Charlie. 'In about three hours' time we shall have to turn out again. If you don't undress you will have a little longer time to sleep.'
Charlie did not undress, and consequently he was ready to start work at once when the time came. He put on a peaked cap in place of his lost sou'-wester.
'Don't forget the tea, cook,' one of them said to Charlie as he climbed up on deck. 'Let's have it before we start hauling.'
Thanks to the trimmer the kettle was boiling, and Charlie was therefore able to bring the men mugs of hot tea in less than five minutes from turning out.
'Cook is one of the right sort, after all,' one of the fishermen declared as he returned his empty mug to Charlie, and the others assented by nods and grunts. But before long Charlie was again in hot water. As he was assisting to haul in the net he sneezed loudly. In a moment one of the fishermen placed his big, dirty hand over his mouth and effectually prevented him from sneezing on the net again.
The skipper, looking down from the bridge, broke into loud abuse.
'What harm is there in sneezing?' Charlie answered, angrily.
'None of your back answers, or I'll clap you in irons.'
'If you do, you'll have to pay for it dearly when we get back to Grimsby. I insist upon knowing what harm I have done.'
'It is thought very unlucky to sneeze on a trawl,' the mate explained quietly, anxious to save Charlie from any further bullying. 'It is supposed to bring bad luck to the trawler. Now, grab hold of the net.'
Charlie again tugged at the net, and, when the catch was emptied into the pound, it was found that it was an exceedingly small one.
'That comes of having you aboard!' the skipper declared, pointing at Charlie.
'I don't see how my sneezing could have affected this catch,' Charlie answered, 'considering that it was almost on board when I sneezed.'
'But how about your sou'-wester last night? That was what ruined this catch, and your sneezing will spoil the next one.'
Charlie laughed openly at this prediction, but it was rather unfortunate for him that, when the next haul was made, it was found that the catch was still smaller than the previous one.
'I told you so!' the skipper declared, white with rage.
'It is a coincidence,' Charlie replied, calmly. 'If I sneeze on the net now you will probably have a fine catch next time.'
'No back answers. Don't you try to teach me anything. Get away to the galley at once, and be careful what you do.'
Charlie returned to the galley, hardly knowing whether to be angry or amused. It was very galling to have to submit to the abuse of an ignorant, blustering fellow like the skipper, but, at the same time, he could not take the man's superstition seriously.
'I would not have believed, unless I had seen the skipper, that it was possible for there to be such a superstitious Briton living at the end of the nineteenth century,' Charlie said to the mate, about half an hour later.
'Oh, there are many like him in the North Sea,' the mate answered, 'and all the arguing in the world won't convince them of their foolishness. After a time you will not find his ignorance and superstition amusing. However, what I want to say to you is this: the men in the foc's'le declare that the grub isn't well cooked, and that you haven't given them plum duff yet. You must let them have it to-morrow.'
'I will,' Charlie declared, as if plum duff were the easiest thing in the world to make.
When the mate left him, Charlie took out the bow-legged cook's written instructions to see what ingredients were necessary. His idea was to make and boil the pudding that evening, so that, if it turned out a failure, he would have time to make another one. If it proved to be a success, he would be able to warm it up on the following morning. But, just as he began to read the recipe, he noticed that the fire had burnt low and needed instant attention. In his anxiety to prevent it from going out, he put down the flimsy little book and began shovelling coals on the fire. While he was doing that a gust of wind swept through the galley, and carried the recipe-book out through the porthole and into the sea.
Charlie, gazing out at it, saw it float for a moment or two, and then lost sight of it.
'Well,' he muttered, ruefully, 'I don't know how I am going to make plum duff now!'
THE TRUMPET AND THE DRUM.
aid the Trumpet to the Drum:
'Less noise, good fellow! come!
For nobody can hear
My voice, when you are near.'
'Boom! boom!' the Drum replied,
'The fault is on your side;
You blow with such a sound
That my poor voice is drowned.'
And after that, all day
They blew and boomed away,
In contest so absurd
That neither could be heard.
Now, when you want to speak,
O children, never seek
To drown in noisy tone
All voices but your own;
But learn to shun in life
The Drum and Trumpet's strife.
JIM'S SHOWER-BATH.
The kitchen was very hot, and Aunt Christy, the old black cook, was very busy. With her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, and her cap all awry, she bustled about, hurrying the slow movements of the girls who were her helpers, and scolding the four little dusky children whenever they got in her way. She declared that they were all as full of mischief as they could be, and that there was not a pin to choose between them. But if one of the four did happen to be worse than the others, that one was certainly Jim.
Jim was nearly seven; his young mind was full of eager questions; he wanted to know the reason of everything, and it was really because he was so curious and prying that Aunt Christy thought him worse than the rest.
"Jim got a terrible drenching."
On that morning he poked about the kitchen, opening baskets and peering into dishes, until his eyes fell upon a large bright pail, which was set upon a stand too high for him to reach.
'That's a new pail. Why's Aunt Christy got a new pail? Wonder what's in it? I will see.'
So said Jim to himself; and when he found that, even by standing on tiptoe, he could not reach, the little rascal trotted off for his three-legged stool, mounted on that, put his chubby arms as far as they would stretch round the pail. A three-legged stool, however, is but a treacherous support, and this Jim found to his cost. As he stood there, it slipped from under his bare feet, and the pail, which was full of warm water and vegetables, suddenly overturned.
Poor Jim got a terrible drenching; it was lucky for him that the water was not very hot, or he would have been sadly scalded. As it was, a big turnip hit him on the head, and the handle of the pail hurt him. Wet and bruised he crept away, a sadder and a wiser boy, inwardly resolved to have nothing more to do with things which did not concern him.