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Cutlass and Cudgel

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<h3>Chapter Two.</h3> “Can any one of you men milk?” said Lieutenant Brough, a little plump-looking man, of about five and thirty, as he stood in naval uniform staring at the new addition to His Majesty’s cutter White Hawk, a well-fed dun cow, which stood steadily swinging her long tail to and fro, where she was tethered to the bulwarks, after vainly trying to make a meal off the well holystoned deck. There was no reply, the men grinning one at the other, on hearing so novel a question. “Do you men mean to say that not one amongst you can milk?” cried the lieutenant. No one had spoken; but now, in a half-shrinking foolish way, Dick pulled his forelock, and made a kick out behind. “You can?” cried the lieutenant, “that’s right; get a bucket and milk her. I’ll have some for breakfast.” “Didn’t say as I could milk, sir,” said Dick. “Seen ’em milk, though, down in Linkyshire, and know how it’s done.” “Then, of course, you can do it,” said the lieutenant shortly; “look sharp!” The men grinned, and Dirty Dick by no means looked sharp, but exceedingly blunt and foolish as he shuffled along the deck, provided himself with a bucket, and then approached the cow, which had suddenly began chewing the cud. “Look at her, mate,” said one of the sailors. “What for?” said the man addressed. “Some one’s been giving her a quid o’ bacca.” “Go on.” “But some one has. Look at her chewing.” “Why, so she is!” said the sailor, scratching his head, as he watched the regular actions of the cow’s jaw, as she stood blinking her eyes, and swinging her tail to and fro, apparently quite content; the more so, that the sun was shining upon her warmly, and the sea water rapidly quitting her skin for the deck, where it made a rivulet into one of the scuppers. Jack the sailor is easily pleased, for the simple reason that anything is a relief from the tedium of life on ship-board; consequently the coming of the cow was like a half-holiday to them at the wrong end of the day, and they stood about nudging each other, as Dirty Dick trotted up with his bucket, Archy looking on as much amused as the men. The cow blinked her eyes, and turned her head to smell at the bucket which Dick set down on the deck, and stood scratching his head. “Well, sir, go on,” said the lieutenant—“Seems to me, now, Mr Raystoke, that we ought to have cream and fresh butter. Capital prize you’ve taken.—Do you hear, sir? Go on.” “Yes, sir. Beg pardon, sir, but you see I wants something to sit on. ’Nother bucket.” “You, sir, fetch another bucket,” said the lieutenant sharply; and another was brought, turned upside down, and, taking the first bucket, amidst the titterings of the men, Dick seated himself, leaned his head against the cow’s side, placed the vessel between his legs, and began to operate in true dairyman style upon the cow. Whack! Bang! Clatter! There was a tremendous roar of laughter from every one on board except from Dirty Dick, who was down on his back a couple of yards away, staring at the cow as if wondering how she could have gone off as she did. For the quiet-looking, inoffensive beast was standing perfectly still again, blinking her eyes and chewing her cud, but writhing and twisting her tail about as if it were an eel, after, at Dick’s first touch, raising one of her hind legs and sending the pail flying across the deck and the would-be milker backwards. “Come, come,” said the lieutenant, wiping his eyes and trying to look very important and stern, “that’s not the right way, my man. Try again.” Dick rose unwillingly, planted the upturned bucket once more in its place, and took the milking bucket from one of the men who had picked it up. Then, sitting down again rather nervously, he once more placed the vessel between his legs, stuck his head against the cow’s side, and prepared to milk. Whack! The bucket flew along the deck again, and Dick bounded away, saving himself from falling this time as he was prepared, and made a sudden leap backwards to stand wiping the perspiration from his forehead. There was another roar of laughter, and the lieutenant bade Dick try again. The man gave his officer an appealing look which seemed to say, “Tell me to board the enemy, sir, and I’ll go, but don’t ask me to do this.” “Come; be smart!” Dick turned, glanced wistfully at Archy, shaking his head at him reproachfully, sighed, and, taking the bucket again, he looked into it with his rugged brown face full of despair. “It’s quite empty, Dick,” said the middy, laughing. “Yes, sir; there’s nowt in it, and,” he added to himself, “not like to be.” Again he settled himself into his place in as businesslike a way as a farm lad would who was accustomed to the cow-shed, but the moment he began the cow gave her tail a swing, lifted her leg, and planted it in the bucket, holding it down on the deck. “Pail’s full,” cried Archy; and the men yelled with delight, their officer vainly trying to control his own mirth as Dick began to pat and apostrophise the cow. “Coom, coom! Coosh, cow, then,” he said soothingly. “Tak’ thy leg oot o’ the boocket, my bairn;” and to the astonishment of all present the cow lifted her leg and set it down again on deck. “Well done, my lad,” cried the lieutenant. “Now, then, look sharp with the milk.” Dick sighed, wiped his hands down the sides of his breeches, and began once more, but at the first touch of the big strong hands accustomed to handle capstan-bars and haul ropes, the cow gave a more vigorous kick than ever; away flew the bucket, and over went Dick on his back. He sprung up angrily now in the midst of the laughter, and touched his forehead to his commanding officer. “It arn’t no good, sir; she’s a beef cow, and not a milker.” “You don’t know your business, my lad,” said the lieutenant. “But she’s such a savage one, sir. Don’t go anigh her, sir.” “Nonsense!” said the lieutenant, going up to the cow, patting her and handling her ears and horns; to all of which attentions the animal submitted calmly enough, blinking her eyes, and gently swinging her tail. “I think I could milk her, sir,” said Archy. “Think so, Raystoke?” said the lieutenant. “I was just thinking I should have liked some new milk.” “So was I, sir. Shall I try?” “Yes,” said the lieutenant. “I believe I could do it myself. It always looks so easy. But no; won’t do,” he said firmly, as he drew himself up and tried to look stern and tall and big, an impossibility with a man of five feet two inches in height, and whose physique had always been against his advance in the profession. For as a short energetic little man he might have gained promotion; as a little fat rosy fellow the Lords of the Admiralty thought not; and so, after endless disappointments regarding better things, he had been appointed commander of the little White Hawk, and sent to cruise off the south coast and about the Channel, to catch the smugglers who were always too clever to be caught. “No,” he said shortly, as he drew himself up; “won’t do, Raystoke, though you and I are condemned to live in this miserable little cutter, and on a contemptible kind of duty, we must not forget that we are officers and gentlemen in His Majesty’s service. Milking cows won’t do. No; we must draw the line at milking cows. But I should have liked a drop for my breakfast.” “Ahoy!” cried one of the men loudly. “Ahoy yourself!” cried a voice from off the sea on the shore side, and all turned to see a boat approaching rowed by a rough-looking fisherman, and with a lad of about sixteen sitting astern, who now rose up to answer the man who shouted. “Where did he come from?” said the lieutenant. “Anybody see him put off?” “No, sir! No, sir!” came from all directions; and the lieutenant raised his glass to sweep the coast. “What do you want?” cried the man at the side as the boat came on, and the lieutenant bade the man ask. “Want?” shouted the lad, a sturdy-looking fellow with keen grey eyes and fair close curly hair all about his sunburned forehead. “I’ve come after our cow!” <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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