No time was lost, and in two days the upper rooms of the counting-house and store had been filled with furniture, and Kicksey came over for the day, and went back at night, after cooking and cleaning for us.
As my father said, it was not so comfortable as being at home, but we were ready enough to adapt ourselves to circumstances; and any change was agreeable in those days.
Bigley was delighted, for it robbed his rather lonely life of its dulness, and he never for a moment realised why the change had been made.
But though we were always on the spot, my father relaxed none of his old preparations. Every other day there was an hour’s drill or sword practice. Sometimes an evening was taken for the use of the pistols; and, by degrees, under my father’s careful instructions, the little band of about twelve men had grown into a substantial trustworthy guard of sturdy fellows, any one of whom was ready to give a good account of himself should he be put to the test.
At first my father had been averse to Bigley drilling with us, but he raised no obstacle, for he said to me, “We can let him learn how to use the weapons, Sep, but it does not follow that he need fight for us.”
“And I’m sure he would not fight against us, father,” I said laughing.
So Bigley grew to be as handy with the cutlass as any of the men, and no mean shot with the pistol.
As for Bob Chowne, he came over and drilled sometimes, and he was considered to be our surgeon—that is, by Bigley and me—but he was not with us very often, for his father kept him at work studying medicine, meaning him to be a doctor later on; but, as Bob expressed it, he was always washing bottles or making pills, though as a fact neither of these tasks ever came to his share.
Four months—five months—six months had gone by since the adventure with the cutter, and Bigley had only had two or three letters sending him money, and saying that his father was quite well, but there was not a word of returning; and it struck me old Jonas must have had means of knowing that his son was still in the old cottage, or he would not have gone on sending money without having an answer back.
The rumours about the war seemed to affect us less than ever, and I was growing so accustomed to my busy life that I thought little of my old amusements, save when now and then I went out for an evening’s fishing with Bigley, the old boat having been brought over from Ripplemouth, none the worse for its trip.