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Ebook has 245 lines and 13880 words, and 5 pages

Sunshine Bill, by W H G Kingston.

Bill's father is a wherry-man in Portsmouth Harbour, who one day has an accident and is killed. Bill's mother is a seller of apples. The whole family are a happy, good-humoured lot. Bill is befriended by a Captain Trevelyan, who offers him a boy seaman's place in his ship, the Lilly. So Bill goes off to sea, knowing that it would be perhaps four years or more before he would see his family again.

His companions as boy seamen include Tommy Rebow, a somewhat weaker lad than Bill. The crew are all reasonably pleasant people, maybe grumbling occasionally, but all getting on well together.

But all is not sunshine, for there are hurricanes, fallings overboard, and other serious mishaps resulting in some swimming. Some fighting with the French, some encounters with sharks, some days with little or no food and water. But they get through it all, giving heartfelt thanks to God for each release from their ordeals. They were taking a captured prize to Jamaica, when a lot of this occurred, and it was a considerable time before they found themselves back on board the Lilly, and homeward bound.

This is a neatly written book--no complaints about it. It is also very short, only half the length of most of Kingston's books, and printed on incredibly thick paper, comparable with the card used to pack breakfast cereals. But the action is lively and frequently unexpected.

SUNSHINE BILL, BY W H G KINGSTON.

Sunshine Bill, according to the world's notion, was not "born with a silver spoon in his mouth;" but he had, which was far better, kind, honest parents. His mother kept an apple-stall at Portsmouth, and his father was part owner of a wherry; but even by their united efforts, in fine weather, they found it hard work to feed and clothe their numerous offspring.

Sometimes Sunshine Bill's father was laid up with illness, and sometimes his mother was so; and occasionally he and his brothers and sisters were sick also. Sometimes they had the measles, or small-pox, or a fever; and then there was the doctor to pay, and medicine to buy; consequently, at the end of these visitations, the family cash-box, consisting of an old stocking in a cracked basin, kept on the highest shelf of their sitting-room, was generally empty, and they considered themselves fortunate if they were not in debt besides. Still, no one ever heard them complain, or saw them quarrel, or beat their children, as some people do when things do not go straight with them; nor did their children ever fight among themselves. Even, indeed, in the worst of times, Sunshine Bill's mother managed to find a crust of bread and a bit of cheese, to keep the family from starving. To be sure, she and her husband could not give their children much of an education, as far as school learning was concerned. They themselves, in spite of all trials, were never cast down; and they taught Bill, and his brothers and sisters, to follow their example. They said that God had always been kind to them, and that they were sure He would not change while they tried to do their duty and please Him.

The most contented, and merriest, and happiest of their children was Sunshine Bill. That was not his real name, though; indeed, he did not get it till long after the time I am speaking of.

He was properly called William Sunnyside, for, curiously enough, Sunnyside was his father's name. His father was known as Merry Tom Sunnyside, and his mother as Pretty Molly Sunnyside--for pretty she had been when she was young, and good as she was pretty. It may seem surprising that they were not better off, but they began the world without anything, and children came fast upon them--a circumstance which keeps many people poor in worldly wealth.

Sunshine Bill, when still a very little fellow, found out how to keep the family pot boiling, even before some of his brothers had done so. No occupation came amiss to him. Sometimes he would go mud-larking, and seldom missed finding some treasure or other. The occupation was not a nice one, for the mud in Portsmouth Harbour is far from clean, or sweet to the nose; but Bill did not care for that, provided he was successful in his search. Sometimes, too, he would go fishing, and seldom came home without a pretty well-filled basket. Then he would look after seamen's boats, and place stools for passengers to walk along when the water was low; and when the weather was bad, and few persons were going afloat, he would go on errands, or scamper alongside gentlemen's horses, ready to hold them when they dismounted. He had such a merry, facetious manner about him, that he generally managed to pick up twice as much as anybody else engaged in the same sort of occupation.

This sort of work, however, was very well for Bill while he was a little fellow; but it was clear that it would not do for him when he should grow bigger. His father and mother often talked over what Bill was to do when that time came.

Tom Sunnyside wished to send him to sea after his two elder brothers, for his next two boys were with him in his boat. Molly wanted to keep him at home to help her in her trade; Bill was ready to do whatever they wished. He would serve his country afloat, and do his best to become an admiral, or he would sell apples all his life.

Nothing, however, was settled; and Bill continued to mud-lark, catch fish, run errands, look after boats, and hold gentlemen's horses, till he was getting to be a big lad.

At length a heavy affliction and trial overtook Mrs Sunnyside--Bill's mother. The wherry, with his father and two of his brothers, went off one November morning when it was blowing hard, with a passenger to a ship lying at Spithead. They put their fare all right on board, received payment, and shoved off from the ship. The gale increased, the weather thickened; hour after hour passed away, and the expected ones did not return to their home. Three days afterwards, a pilot vessel brought in an oar, and a board, with the rising sun painted on it.

She sat at her stall, and did her best to sell her apples. Bill exerted himself more than ever. His two elder brothers were, as has been said, on board men-of-war. The next two surviving children were girls, and could do little to help themselves or their mother. And now, for the first time, the family began to feel what it was to be hungry, and to have no food to put into their mouths. Bill was up early and late, and was always so hard at work that he declared he had no time to be hungry. The truth is, he might always have had plenty of food for himself, but that he thought fit to share every farthing of his gains among his brothers and sisters.

One day he was holding a horse for an officer, who was, he saw by his uniform, a commander in the navy, for Bill could distinguish the rank of naval officers by the gold lace on their coats, and knew at a glance a post captain from a commander, and a commander from a lieutenant, and so on. He especially liked the look of the officer whose horse he was holding; and while he walked it up and down as he had been directed, he thought to himself--

"If I was to go to sea now I should not only get a rig out, but have enough to eat, and be able to send home my pay to mother as soon as I get any."

He had just before been taking a survey of his clothes, which, in spite of all sorts of contrivances, he had no small difficulty in keeping about him. He wished to look tolerably decent, though he had considerable misgivings on that score. He felt very thin, and not so strong as he used to be, which is not surprising, considering the small amount of sustenance he took. The little ones at home were certainly fatter than he was.

When the officer came out of the house he cast a kind look at Bill, who, as was his custom to his superiors, pulled off his battered hat to him.

"I should like to know something about you, my lad," said the officer, as he mounted his horse, in a tone which was as kind as were his looks.

"Yes, sir," answered Bill, pulling a lock of his long, shaggy hair; "I be called Bill Sunnyside, and mother sells apples out at the corner of High Street, there."

"A succinct account of yourself, my lad," said the officer.

"It be true though, sir," said Bill, not understanding what succinct meant. "And, sir, I'd like to go to sea with you."

"Oh! Would you?" said the officer, smiling. "But how do you know that I command a ship?"

"Because you would not otherwise be in uniform," answered Bill, promptly.

"Ay, I see you have your wits about you," remarked the officer.

"It's as well I should, for they be the only things I have got except these duds," answered Bill, giving way to a propensity for humour, which, unknown to himself, he possessed, though he spoke with perfect respect.

The officer laughed, and said--

"Where is your father, boy?"

"He and two brothers were drowned out at Spithead, last autumn," answered Bill.

"Ah! I will have a talk with your mother, one of these days; I think I know her. Be a good boy meantime," said the officer, and he rode away up the street.

Bill looked after him, thinking when "one of these days" would come, and what would come out of the talk.

Several days passed by, and Bill heard nothing of the captain. His clothes became more and more tattered, and, though his mother mended them at night, they were so rotten that they often got torn again the next day. Winter came. Times were indeed hard with him. He grew thinner and thinner. Still, whenever he got a penny, he shared it with those he loved at home. "Never say die," was his motto; "it is a long lane which has no turning," and "a dull day when the sun does not shine out before the evening." With such expressions he used to cheer and comfort his mother, though, in spite of all trials, she was not often disposed to be more cast down than he was.

"Don't give way, mother," Bill used to say, when, on coming home in the evening, she looked sadder than usual. "Just remember what the parson said: `The sun is shining up above the clouds every day in the year, and he is sure to break through them and shine upon us some time or other; and God is looking down at all times through them, let them be ever so thick, and never forgets us.'"

Still Bill could not help wishing that the kind captain had remembered, as he said he would, and made that some day or other arrive rather more quickly than there appeared a likelihood of its doing.

There was not, I repeat, a more cheery, kind-hearted little woman in all Portsmouth, in spite of her large family, in spite of the loss of her husband, in spite of her poverty, than was Mrs Sunnyside; and this was just because God had given her a kind, happy heart, and she trusted in God, and knew that He loved her, and would not fail in any one of His promises. Had she not done that, she would soon have broken down.

"Well, Mrs Sunnyside, and how goes the world with you; and how is Bill?" said a gentleman, one day, coming up to the stall, where she sat knitting assiduously.

"Bill is at work, as he always is, and God has given health to those of my children who are spared, sir," said the widow, continuing her knitting, and only just glancing up at the gentleman's face. She then added, "I beg your pardon, sir, maybe I ought to know you, but you will excuse me when I say I don't."

"Very likely not," answered the gentleman, "yet I rather think I was a frequent customer of yours in former days, when I wore a midshipman's uniform. My business, however, is with your son Bill. He is my acquaintance. Tell me, Mrs Sunnyside, would you wish your boy to go to sea on board a man-of-war, with a captain who would keep an eye upon him, and give him a helping hand, if he proved himself worthy of it?"

Mrs Sunnyside did not answer at once. She went on knitting very slowly, though.

"Oh, sir! It would be a sore trial to part from Bill. He is the bright, cheering light of our little home. Yet the lad is fit for more than he is now doing; and I would be thankful, very thankful, if I thought he was with a kind, just captain, who would do as you say; but I would rather let Bill answer for himself."

"Thank you, sir, thank you!" exclaimed Mrs Sunnyside. "If Bill wants to go, I will not say him nay; for I am sure you will do what you say, and a mother's prayers will be offered up for you and him every morning and night of my life. You see, sir, when I sit out here, I can often be thinking of you; and if anything does happen to you or Bill, I am sure it won't be for want of praying, nor for want of God's love; but just because He sees it's best."

"Have you taught Bill to hold these sentiments?" asked the gentleman.

"Well, sir, I know he thinks and does just as I think and do."

Saying this, Captain Trevelyan hurried away down the street.

"God bless you, sir! God bless you!" exclaimed Mrs Sunnyside, almost bursting into tears, for her feelings of gratitude overcame her.

That afternoon she had a wonderfully brisk sale for her apples, and was able to leave her post at an earlier hour than usual. She almost ran, in her eagerness to get home. Bill was out, but she hurried forth again to a slop-shop with which she was well acquainted. The shopmaster knew her. She felt sure he would treat her fairly, when she told him the state of the case. She knew Bill's height and width to the eighth of an inch. The great object was to get the things big enough. With a big bundle under her arm, she trudged home again, full of joy one moment at the thoughts of how happy his good luck would make him, and then ready to cry when she remembered that he would have to go away from her, and that for three, perhaps four years, or even more, she might not again see his bright, ruddy, smiling face; for, somehow or other, it was ruddy even when he was hungry.

"Who are all those things for, mother?" exclaimed Bill, with a look of surprise, as he came into the room and saw them hung up on the chairs and foot of the bed.

Mrs Sunnyside told him. At first, he could not speak. He used to long very much to go to sea; but now the reality had come suddenly upon him. When his brothers and sisters came in, they insisted on his putting on his new clothes. The bustle and talking revived him somewhat.

"I must go and have a wash first. I am not fit for these things," he answered, looking at his dirty clothes and hands; and out he rushed to the pump in the back yard, where he was wont to perform his ablutions. He returned for a piece of soap, however.

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