Chapter 1 of The Ship of Stars. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Marcia Epic Harris. The Ship of Stars by Arthur Quiller Cooch, Chapter 1. The Boy in the Gatehouse. Until his ninth year, the boy about whom this story is written, lived in a house which looked upon the square of a county town. The house had once formed part of a large religious building, and the boy's bedroom had a high-growing roof, and on the capstone, an angel carved without spread wings. Every night, the boy wound up his prayers with this verse which his grandmother had taught him. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, bless the bed that I lie on. Four corners to my bed, four angels round my head, one to watch, one to pray, two to bear my soul away. Then he would look up to the angel and say, only Luke is with me.  He supposed the other three angels to be always waiting in the next room, ready to bear away the soul of his grandmother, who is bedridden, and that he had Luke for hit an angel because he was called Theophilus, after the friend for whom St. Luke had written his gospel, and the Acts of the Holy Apostles. His name in full was Theophilus John Raymond, but people called him Taffy. Of his parent's circumstances, he knew very little, except that they were poor, and that his father was a clergyman attached to the parish church. As a matter of fact, the Reverend Samuel Raymond was a senior curate there, with a stipend of 95 pounds a year. Born at Tuxbury, the son of a miller, he had won his way to a servitorship at Christchurch, Oxford, and somehow, in the course of one long vacation, had found money for traveling expenses to join a reading party under the junior censor. The party spent six summer weeks at a farmhouse near Hunneton in Devon. The farm belongs to an invalid widow named Venning, who let it be managed by her daughter Humility, and two paid laborers, while she herself sat by the window in her kitchen parlor, busied incessantly with lacework of that beautiful kind for which Hunneton is famous. He was an unassuming youth, and although in those days servitors were no longer called upon to black the boots of richer undergraduates, the widow and her daughter soon divined that he was lolier than the others, and his position an awkward one, and were kind to him in small ways and grew to like him. Next year at their invitation, he traveled down to Hunneton alone, with a box of books, and at twenty-two, having taken his degree, he paid them a third visit and asked Humility to be his wife. At twenty-four, soon after his admission to Deacon's Orders, they were married. The widow sold the small farm with its stock, and followed to live with them in the friary gatehouse, this having been part of Humility's bargain with her lover, if the word can be used of a pack between two hearts so fond. About ten years had gone since these things happened, and their child's taffy was now past his eighth birthday. It seemed to him that, so far back as he could remember, his mother and grandmother had been making lace continually. At night, when his mother took the candle away with her and left him alone in the dark, he was not afraid, for by closing his eyes, he could always see the two women quite plainly, and always he saw them at work, each with a pillow on their lap, and the lace upon it growing, growing, until the pins and bobbins wove a pattern that was a dream, and he slept. He could not always tell what became of all the lace, though he had a collar of it, which he wore to church on Sundays, and his mother had once shown him a parcel of it, wrapped in tissue paper, and told him it was his christening robe. His father was always reading except on Sundays when he preached sermons. In his thoughts, nine times out of ten, taffy associated his father with a great pile of books, but the tenth time was something totally different. One summer, it was his sixth year, they had all gone on a holiday to Tewkesbury, his father's old home, and he recalled quite clearly the clothes of a warm afternoon which he and his mother had spent there in a green meadow beyond the Abbey Church. She had brought out a basket and cushion, and sat sewing, while taffy played about and watched the haymakers at their work. Behind them, within the great church, the organ was sounding, but by and by it stopped, and a door opened in the Abbey Wall, and his father came across the meadow toward them with his surplus on his arm. And then he millety unpacked the basket and produced a kettle, a spirit lamp, and a host of good things to eat. The boy thought the whole adventure splendid. When tea was done, he sprang up with one of those absurd notions which come into children's heads. Now let's feed the poultry, he cried, and flung his last scrap of bun three feet in air toward the gilt weathercock on the Abbey Tower. While they laughed, father, how tall is the tower, he demanded? A hundred and thirty-two feet, my boy, from ground to battlements. What are battlements? He was told. But people don't fight here, he objected. Then his father told of a battle fought in the very meadow in which they were sitting, of soldiers at bay with their backs to the Abbey Wall, of crowds that ran screaming into the church, of others chased down Mill Street and drowned, of others killed by the town cross, and how, people said in the upper room of a house still standing in the high street, the boy prince had been stabbed. Humility lay a hand on his arm. He'll be dreaming of all this. Tell him it was a long time ago and that these things don't happen now. But her husband was looking up at the tower. See it now with the light upon it, he went on, and it has seen it all, eight hundred years of heaven's storms and man's madness, and still four square and as beautiful now and the old masons took down their scaffolding. When I was a boy, he broke off suddenly. Lord make men as towers. He added quietly after a while and nobody spoke for many minutes. To Taffy, this had seemed a very queer saying. About as queer as that other one about men as trees walking. Somehow he could not say why. He had never asked any questions about it. But many times he had perched himself on a flat tombstone under the church tower at home and tilted his head back and stared up at the courses and pinnacles wondering what his father could have meant and how a man could possibly be like a tower. It ended in this that whenever he dreamed about his father these two towers or a tower which was more or less a combination of both would get mixed up with the dream as well. The gate house contained a sitting room and three bedrooms, one hardly bigger than a box cupboard, but a building adjoined it which had been the old Franciscan's refractory. Though now it was divided by common planking into two floors, the lower serving for a fluffy office while the upper was supposed to be a mutimate room in charge of the fluffy's clerk. The clerk used it for drying his garden seeds and onions and spreading his hoarding apples to ripen on the floor. So when Taffy grew to need a room of his own and his father's books to cumber the very stairs of the gate house the money which humility and her mother made by their lacework and which arrived always by post came very handy for the rent which the clerk asked for his upper chamber. Carpenters appeared and partitioned it off into two rooms communicating with the gate house by a narrow doorway pierced in the wall. All this, Wylstuh was doing, interested Taffy mightily and he announced his intention of being a carpenter one of these days. I hope, said humility, you will look higher and be a preacher of God's word like your father. His father frowned at this and said, Jesus Christ was both. Taffy compromised, perhaps I'll make pulpits. This is how he came to have a bedroom with a vaulted roof and a window that reached down below the floor. End of Chapter 1, Recording by Marsha Epic Harris Chapter 2 of The Ship of Stars This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Marsha Epic Harris. The Ship of Stars by Arthur Quiller Cooch Chapter 2, Music in the Town Square This window looked upon the town square and across it to the mayoralty. The square had once been the Franciscan's burial ground and was really no square at all but a semi-circle. The townspeople called it Mount Folly. The cord of the ark was formed by a large assize-hole with a broad flight of granite steps and a cannon planted on either side of the steps. The children used to climb about these cannons and Taffy had picked out his first letters from the words Sevastopol and Russian Trophy painted in white on their lead-colored carriages. Below the assize-hole, an open-graveled space sloped gently down to a line of iron railings and another flight of granite steps leading into the main street. The street curved uphill around the base of this open ground and came level with it just in front of the mayoralty a tall stuccoed building where the public balls were given and the judges had their lodgings in a size-time and the colonel his quarters during the militia trading. Fine shows passed under Taffy's window. Twice a year came the judges with the sheriff in uniform and his chaplain and his coach and his coachmen and lackeys in powder and plush and silk stockings white or flesh-colored and the barristers with their wigs and the javelin men and silver trumpets. Every spring, too, the Royal Rangers militia came up for training. Suddenly one morning in the height of the bird-nesting season the street with swarm-with countrymen tramping up to the barracks on the hill and back with bundles of clothes and unblackened boots dangling. For the next six weeks the town would be full of bugle calls and brazen music and companies marching and parading in suits of invisible green and clanking officers in black with little round forage caps and silver badges on their side belts and towards evening with men lounging and smoking or washing themselves in public before the doors of their billets. Usually, too, Whitsun Fair fell at the height of the militia training and then for two days booths and caravans, sweet standings and shooting galleries lined the main street and Taffy went out with a shilling in his pocket to enjoy himself. But the bigger shows, the menagerie, the marionettes and the traveling theater royal were pitched on Mount Folly just under his window. Sometimes the theater would stay a week or two after the fair was over until even the boy grew tired of the naffolamps and the voices of the tragedians and the cornet wheezing under canvas began to long for the time when they would leave the square open for the boys to come and play at prisoner's bars in the dusk. One evening, a fortnight before Whitsun Fair he had taken his book to the open window and sat there with it.  Already across the square, the Marilty House was brightly lit and the bandsmen had begun to arrange their stands and music before it, for the Colonel was receiving company. Every now and then a carriage arrived and set down its guests. After a while Taffy looked up and saw two persons crossing the square, an old man and a little girl. He recognized them, having seen them together in church the day before when his father had preached the sermon. The old man wore a rusty silk hat, cocked a little to one side, a high stock collar, black cutaway coat, breeches and gaiters of gray cord.  The girl's face Taffy could not see. It was hidden by the brim of her leghorn hat. The pair passed close under the window. Taffy heard a knock at the door below and ran to the head of the stairs. Down in the passage his mother was talking to the old man who turned to the girl and told her to wait outside.  No, ma'am, I know my mind. I want one hour with your husband.  The little girl had climbed the cannon opposite and sat there dangling her feet and eyeing the house. Boy, she said, what a funny window seat you've got. I can see your legs under it. That's because the window reaches down to the floor and the bench is fixed across by the transom here. What's your name? Theophilus, but they call me Taffy. Why? Father says it's an imperfect example of Grimm's law. Oh, then I suppose you're quite the gentleman? My name's Honoria. Is that your father downstairs? Plus the boy, what age do you take me for? He's my grandfather. He's asking your father about his soul. He wants to be saved and says if he's not saved before next lady day he'll know the reason why. What are you doing up there? Reading. Reading what? The Bible. But I say, can you really? You'll listen. Taffy rested the big Bible on the window frame. It just had room to lie open between the two mullions. Now, when they had gone throughout Phrygia and Galicia and were forbidden by the Holy Ghost to preach the word in Asia after they were come to Misha, they essayed to go to Bethenia, but the spirit suffered them not, and they, passing by Meshia, came down to Troas, and a vision appeared to Paul in the night. I don't wonder at it. Did you ever have the whooping cough? Not yet. I've had it all the winter. That's why I'm not allowed in to play with you. Listen. She coughed twice and wound up with a terrific whoop. Now if you'd only put on your night-shirt and preach, I'd be the congregation and interrupt you with coughing. Very well, said Taffy. Let's do it. No, you didn't suggest it.  Taffy was huffed and pretended to return to his book. By and by she called up to him. Tell me, what's written on this gun of yours? Sevastopol. That's a Russian town. The English took it by storm. What? The soldiers over there? No, they're only bandsmen, and they're too young. But I expect the Colonel was there. He's upstairs in the Marilty, dining. He's quite an old man, but I've heard fathers say he was as brave as a lion when the fighting happened. The girl climbed off the gun. Done. I'm going to have a look at him, she said. And turning her back on Taffy, she sauntered off across the square, just as a band struck up the first note of the overture from Semiramity. A waltz of Strauss followed, then came a cornet solo by the bandmaster and a medley of old English tunes. To all of these Taffy listened. It had fallen too dark to read, and the boy was always sensitive to music. Often when he played alone, broken phrases and scraps of remembered tunes came to his head and repeated themselves over and over. Then he would drop his game and wonder about restlessly trying to fix and complete the melody. And somehow in the process the melody always became a story or so like a story that he never knew the difference. Sometimes his uneasiness lasted for days together, but when the story came complete at last and this always sprang on him quite suddenly, he wanted to caper and fling his arms about and sing aloud and did so if nobody happened to be looking. The bandmaster too had music and a reputation for imparting it.  He kept his temper tonight for his youngsters were playing well and the small crowd standing quiet. The English melodies had scarcely closed with come lasses and lads when a cross in merility, a blind was drawn and a window thrown open and Taffy saw the warm room within and the officers and ladies standing with glasses in their hands. The Colonel was giving the one toast of the evening. Ladies and gentlemen, the Queen, the adjutant leaned out and lifted his hand for signal and the band crashed out with a national anthem. Then there was silence for a minute. The window remained open. Taffy still caught glimpses of jewels and uniforms and white necks bending and men leaning back in their chairs with their mess jackets open and the candlelight flashing on their shirt fronts. Below in the dark street the bandmaster trimmed the lamp by his music stand. In the rays of it he drew out a handkerchief and polished the keys of his cornet. Then passed the cornet over to his left hand, took up his baton and nodded. What music was that, stealing, rippling across the square?  And Taffy had never heard so much as the name of Tanhoiser, of the meaning of the music he knew nothing, nothing beyond its wonder and terror. But afterward he made a tale of it to himself. In the tale it seemed that a vine shot up and climbed on the shadows of the warm night and the shadows climbed with it and made a trellis for it right across the sky. The vine thrust through the trellis faster and faster, dividing, throwing out little curls and tendrils, then leaves and millions of leaves, each leaf unfolding about a drop of dew which trickled and fell and tinkled like a birdsong. The beauty and scent of the vine distressed him. He wanted to cry out, for it was hiding the sky. Then he heard the tramp of feet in the distance and knew that they threatened the vine, and with that he wanted to save it. But the feet came nearer and nearer, tramping terribly. He could not bear it. He ran to the stairs, stole down them, opened the front door cautiously and slipped outside. He was halfway across the square before it occurred to him that the band had ceased to play. Then he wondered why he had come, but he did not go back. He found Honoria standing a little apart from the crowd with her hands clasped behind her, gazing up at the window of the banqueting room. She did not see him at once. "'Stand on the steps here,' he whispered. "'Then you can see him. That's the Colonel, the man at the end of the table with a big gray mustache.' He touched her arm. She sprang away and stamped her foot. "'Keep up with you. Who told you? Oh, you bad boy!' "'Nobody.   "'I think your grandfather might have more sense than to keep you waiting out here in the cold and giving your cough to the whole town.' "'Hah! You do, do you?' It was not the girl who said this. Taffy swung round and saw an old man staring down on him.  But Taffy's blood was up. "'Yes, I do,' he said, and wondered at himself. "'Hah!  "'I believe in it. Come, honorea.' The child threw a glance at Taffy as she was led away. He could not be sure whether she took his side or her grandfather's.  His grandmother had lost her lace pillow, and after searching for some time he found it lying out in the square. The pins and bobbins were darting to and fro on their own account at an incredible rate, and the lace as they made it turning into a singing beanstalk and rose and threw out branches all over the sky. Very soon he found himself climbing among those branches up and up until he came to a palace, which was really the Assize Hall, with a flight of steps before it and a cannon on either side of the steps.  A harp stood on the table. Taffy caught this up and was stealing downstairs with it, but at the third stair the harp, which had honorea's head and face, began to cough and wound up with a whoop. This woke the giant. He turned out to be honorea's grandfather, became roaring after him. Lancing down below as he ran, Taffy saw his mother and the bandmaster far below with axes hacking at the foot of the beanstalk. He tried to call out and prevent them, but they kept smiting, and the worst of it was that down below too his father was climbing into a pulpit, quite as if nothing was happening. The pulpit grew and became a tower and his father kept calling, Be a tower! Be a tower! Like me! But Taffy couldn't for the life of him see how to manage it. The beanstalk began to totter. He felt himself falling and leapt for the tower and awoke in his bed shuddering and for the first time in his life afraid of the dark. He would have called for his mother, but just then down by the turret clock in Four Street the buglers began to sound the last post and he hugged himself and felt that the world he knew was still about him, companionable and kind. Taffy and Taffy were on their call in more distant streets each time more faintly and the last flying notes carried him to sleep again. End of Chapter 2 Recording by Marsha Epic Harris Chapter 3 of The Ship of Stars This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Marsha Epic Harris The Ship of Stars by Arthur Quillar Cooch Chapter 3 Passengers by Joby's Man At breakfast next morning he saw by his parents face that something unusual had happened. Nothing was said to him about it, whatever it might be, but once or twice after this coming into the parlour suddenly he found his father and mother talking low and earnestly together and now and then they would go up to him and talk. In some way he divined that there was a question of leaving home, but the summer passed and these private talks became fewer. Toward August however they began again and by and by his mother told him they were going to a parish on the north coast right away across the duchy where his father had been presented to a living. The place had an odd name, said Humility. The most of it sea sand so far as I can hear. It was by the sea then. How would they get there? Oh, Joby's van will take us most of the way. Of all the vans which came and went in the Four Street none could compare for the romance of Joby's. People called it the wreck ashore, but its real name, Vital Spark J. Job Proprietor was painted on its orange colored lights and letters of vivid blue, a blue not often seen except on ships boats. It disappeared every Tuesday and Saturday over the hill and into a mysterious country from which it emerged on Mondays and Fridays with a fine flavor of the sea renewed upon it and upon Joby. No other driver wore a blue Guernsey or rings in his ears as Joby did. No other van had the same mode of progressing down the street in a series of short texts or brought such a crust of brine on its panes or such a mixture of mud and fine sand on its wheels or mingled scraps of dry seaweed with a straw on its floor. Will there be ships? Taffy asked. I dare say we shall see a few out in the distance. It's a poor outlandish place. It hasn't even a proper church. If there's no church Father can get into a boat and preach just like the Sea of Galilee, you know? Your father is too good a man to mimic the scriptures in any such way. There is a church I believe, though it's a tumble down one. Nobody has preached in it for years, but Squire Moyle made you something now. He's a rich man. Is that the old gentleman who came to ask Father about his soul? Yes. He says no preaching ever did him so much good as your father's. That's why he came and offered the living. But he can't go to heaven if he's rich. I don't know, Taffy, wherever you pick up such wicked thoughts. Why, it's in the Bible. Humility would not argue about it if she told her husband that night what the child had said. My dear, he answered, the boy must think of these things. But he ought not to be talking disrespectfully, contented she. One Tuesday toward the end of September Taffy saw his father off by Joby's van, and the Friday after, walks down with his mother to meet him on his return. Almost at once the household began to pack. The packing went on for a week, in the midst of which his father departed again, a wagon load of books and furniture having been sent forward on the road that same morning, then followed a day or two during which Taffy and his mother took their meals at the window seat, sitting on corded boxes, and an evening when he went out to the cannon in the square, and around the little back garden, saying goodbye to the fixtures and the few odds and ends which were to be left behind, the tool shed, Crusoe's hut, Cave of Udallam, and Treasury of the Forty Thieves, the stunted sycamore tree which he had climbed at different times as Zacchaeus, Alibaba, and Man Friday with the bear behind him. The clothes prop which, on the strength of its tail, had so often played dragon to his St. George. When he returned to the empty house he found his mother in the passage. She had been for a walk alone. The candle was lit, and he saw she had been crying. This told him where she had been, for although he remembered nothing about it, he knew he had once possessed a small sister who lived with him less than two months. He had, as a rule, very definite death in the grave, but he never thought of her as dead and buried partly because his mother would never allow him to go with her to the cemetery, and partly because of a picture in a certain book of his called Child's Play. It represented a little girl wading across the pool among water lilies. She wore a white night dress, kilted above her knees, and a dark cloak which dragged behind in the water. She led it trail while she held up a hand to cover one of her eyes. Above her were trees and an owl, and a star shining under the topmost branch and on the opposite page this verse. I have a little sister. They call her Peep Peep. She wades through the waters, deep, deep, deep. She climbs up the mountains, high, high, high. This poor little creature she has but one eye. For years Taffy believed that this was his little sister, one eye, and always wondering, and that his mother went out in the dusk to persuade her to return, but she never would. When he woke next morning, his mother was in the room, and while he washed and dressed, she folded his bed clothes and carried them down to a wagon which stood by the door, with horses already harnessed. It drove away soon after. He found breakfast and a neighbor had lent the crockery, and Taffy was greatly taken with the pattern on the cups and saucers. He wanted to run round again and repeat his goodbyes to the house, but there was no time. By and by the door opened, and two men, neighbors of theirs, entered with an invalids litter, and humility directing brought down old Mrs. Vinning. She wore the corner of a paisley shawl over her white cap and carried a flower in place of her lace pillow, but otherwise looked much as usual. Quite the traveler, you see, she cried gaily to Taffy. Then the woman who had lent the breakfast swear came running to say that Joby was getting impatient. Humility handed the door key to her, and so the little procession passed out and down across Mount Folly. Joby had drawn his van up close to the granite steps. They were the only passengers it seemed. The invalid was hoisted in and laid with her couch across the seats so that her shoulders rested against one side of the van and her feet against the other. Humility climbed in after her, but Taffy, to his joy, was given a seat outside the box.  As they crawled up the street, a few townspeople paused on the pavement and waved farewells. At the top of the town, they were three sailor boys with bundles who climbed up and perched themselves atop of the van on the luggage. On they went again. There were two horses, a rhone and a gray. Taffy had never before looked down on the back of a horse, and Joby's horses astonished them. They were so broad behind and so narrow at the shoulders. He wanted to ask if the shape were at all common, but felt shy. He stole a glance at the silver ring in his ear and blushed when Joby turned and caught him. Here, catch hold, said Joby, handing him the whip. Only he mustn't use it too fierce. Thank you. I suppose you'll be a scholar like your father. Can he spell? Yes. Cypher? Yes. That's more than I can do. I count upon my fingers. When they be used up, I begin upon my buttons. I hang gotten no buttons, visible that is upon my week-a-day clothes, so I keep the long sums for Sundays and add them up and down my whisket during sermon. Don't tell any person. I won't. That's right. I don't want to know. Ever see a gypsy? Oh yes, often. Next time you see one, you'll know why you wear so many buttons. You have a lot to learn. The van zigzagged down one hill and up another, and halted at a turnpike.  A little way beyond, they passed the angle of a mining district with four or five engine houses high up like castles on the hillside, and rows of stamps clattering and working up and down like ogre's teeth. Next, they came to a church town with a green and a heap of linen spread to dry for it was Tuesday, and a flock of geese that ran and hissed after the van. Until Joby took the whip and leaning out, looped the gander by the neck and pulled him along in the dust. The sailor boy shouted with laughter and struck up a song about a fox and a goose, which lasted all the way up a long hill, and brought them to a second turnpike on the edge of the moors. Here lived an old woman in a blue sunbonnet. She handed Joby a yellow ticket. But why does she wear a blue bonnet and give them yellow tickets? Taffy asked as they drove on. Joby considered for a minute, ah, you're one to take notice, I see. That's right. Keep your eyes skinned when you travel. Taffy had to think this out. The country was changing now. They had left stubble fields and hedges behind, and before then the granite road stretched like a white ribbon with moors on either hand dotted with peat ricks and reedy pools and cronies, and rimmed in the distance with clayworks glistening in the sunny weather. What sort of place is Nanizebou? I don't go on there. I drop you at Indian Queens. But what sort of place is it? Well, I'll tell you what folks say of it. I'll see in sands out of the world and into St. Anne's. That's what they say, and if I'm wrong you may call me a liar. What kind of man is he? Joby turned and eyed him severely. Look here, Sunny. I got my living ticket. This silenced Taffy for a long while, but he picked up his courage again by degrees. There was a small window at his back, and he twisted himself round and nodded to his mother and grandmother inside the van. He could not hear what they said at the top of their voices. Well, I'll sing you one O. What is your one O? Number one sits all alone and never more shall be so. Their home pond leaves said Joby. The song went on and reached number seven. I'll sing you seven O. What is your seven O?  One of the boys leaned from the roof and twitched Taffy by the hair. Oh, Nipper, did you ever see a ship of stars? He grinned and pulled open his sailor's jumper and singlet, and there on his naked breast Taffy saw a ship tattooed with three masts and a half circle of stars above it, and below it the initials W.P. Do you think my mother will know me again? asked the boy, and the other two began to laugh. Yes, I think so, said Taffy gravely, which made them laugh more than ever. But why is he painted like that? He asked Joby as they took up their song again. Ah, you'll learn all over to St. Hans, being one to notice things. The nearer he came to it, the more mysterious this new helm of Taffy seemed to grow. By and by humility let down the window and handed out a posty. Joby searched under his seat the posty twice the size of Taffy's in a nosebag. They ate as they went, holding out their posties from time to time and comparing progress. Late in the afternoon they came to hedges again and at length to an inn and in front of it Taffy spied his father, waiting with a farm cart. While Joby baited his horses, the sailor boys helped to lift out the invalid and tranship the luggage after which they climbed on the roof and were jogged away northward in the dusk waving their caps and singing. The most remarkable thing about the inn was its sign board. This bore on either side the picture of an Indian queen and two Blackamore children all with striped parasols walking together across a desert. The queen on one side wore a scarlet turban and a blue robe, but the queen on the other side wore a blue turban and a scarlet robe. Taffy dodged from side to side comparing them and had not made up his mind which he liked best when he called him indoors to tea. They had ham and eggs with their tea which they took in a great hurry and then his grandmother was lifted into the cart and laid on a bed of clean straw beside the boxes and he and his mother clamored up in front. So they started again, his father walking at the horse's head. They took the road toward the sunset and as the dusk fell closer around Mr. Raymond lit a horn lantern and carried it before them. The rays of it danced and wheeled upon the hedges and gorse bushes. Taffy began to feel sleepy though it was long before his usual bedtime. The air seemed to weigh his eyelids down or was it a sound allowing him. He looked up suddenly. His mother's arm was about him. Stars flashed above and a glimmer fell into her gentle face, a dew of light as it were. Her dark eyes appeared darker than usual as she leaned and drew her shawl over his shoulder. Ahead the rays of the lantern kept up their dance but they flared now and again upon stone hedges built in zigzag layers and upon unknown feathery bushes intensely green and glistening like metal. The cart jolted and the lantern swung to a soundless tune that filled it. When Taffy listened it ceased. When he ceased listening it began again. The lantern stopped its dance and stood still over a forward of black water. The cart splashed into it and became a ship heaving and lurching over a soft irregular floor that returned no sound. But suddenly the ship became a cart again and stood still before a house with a narrow garden path and a light streaming along it his father lifted him down his mother took his hand they seemed to wade together up that stream of light. Then came a staircase in a room with a bed in it which oddly enough turned out to be his own. He stared at the pink roses on the curtains. Yes, certainly it was his own bed and satisfied of this he nestled down in the pillows and slept to the long cadence of the sea. Chapter 3 Recording by Marsha Epic Harris Chapter number 4 of The Ship of Stars This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Shashank Jagmola The Ship of Stars by Arthur Quillier Couch The Running Sands He awoke to find the sun shining in at his window. At first he wondered what had happened. The window seemed to be in the ceiling and the ceiling sloped down to the walls and all the furniture had gone astray in two wrong positions. Then he remembered jumped out of bed and drew the blind. He saw a blue line of sea so clearly drawn that the horizon might have been a string stretched from the corner eaves and a white lighthouse standing on the farthest bit of land. Blue sea and yellow sand curving rounded with the white edge of breakers. In shore the sand rising to a cliff rich with grassy hummocks farther in shore the hummocks united and rolling away up to inland downs but broken here and there on the way with scars of sand overall white girls wheeling. He could hear the nearest one meowing as they sailed over the house. Taffy had seen the sea once before at Dollish on the journey to Tuquesbury and again on the way home but here it was blueer altogether and the sands were yellower. Only he felt disappointed that no ship was in sight nor any dwelling nearer than the lighthouse and the two or three white cottages behind it. He dressed in a hurry and said his prayers repeating at the close as he had been taught to do the first and last verses of the morning hymn. Awake my soul and with the sun thy daily stage of duty run shake off dull sloth and joyful rice to pay thy morning sacrifice.  He ran downstairs in this queer house the stairs led right down into the kitchen. The front door too opened into the kitchen which was really a slate paved hall with the long tables set between the doorway and the big open hearth. The floor was always strewn with sand. There was no trouble about this for the wind blew plenty under the door. Taffy found the table laid and his mother busily slicing bread for his bread and milk. He begged for a hot cake from the hearth and ran out of doors to eat it. Humility left the luch for him for the cake was so hot that he had to pass it from hand to hand. Outside the wind came upon him with a clap on the shoulder quite as if it had been a comrade waiting. Taffy ran down the path and out upon the sandy hummocks setting his face to the wind and the roar of the sea keeping his head low and still shifting the cake from hand to hand. By and by he fumbled and dropped it stooped to pick it up but saw something which made him kneel and peer into the ground. The whole of the sand was moving not by fits and starts rapidly. The tiny particles running over each other and drifting in and out of the rushes like little creatures in a dream. While he looked they piled an embankment against the edge of his cake. He picked it up ran forward a few yards and peered again. Yes, here too. Here and yonder hand over every inch of that long shore. He ate his cake and drank it watching the sand hoppers that skipped from under his boots at every step and were lost on the instant. The beach here was moist and firm. He pulled off his boots and stockings and ran on conning his footprints and the driblets of sand split ahead from his bare toes. By and by he came to the edge of the surf. The strand here was glassy wet and each curving wave sent a shadow flying over it and came after the shadow thundering and hissing and chased it up the shore and fell back leaving for the second or two an edge of delicate froth which reminded the boy of his mother's lace work. He began a sort of game with the waves choosing one station after another and challenging them to catch him there. If the edge of froth failed to reach his toes, he won. But once or twice the water caught him fairly and ran drippling over his instep and about his ankles. He was deep in this game when he heard a horn blown somewhere high on the toe vans behind him. He turned. No one was in sight. The house lay behind the sandbanks the first ridge hiding even its chimney smoke. He gazed along the beach and a piece of spray seemed to have removed the lighthouse to a vast distance. A sense of desolation came over him with a rush and with something between a gasp and a sob he turned his back to the sea and ran his boots dangling from his shoulders by their knotted laces. He pounded up the first slope and looked for the cottage. No sign of it an insane fancy seized him. These silent moving sands were after him. He was panting along in real distress when he heard the bane of dogs and at the same instance from the top of a hammock caught sight of a figure outlined against the sky and barely a quarter of a mile away the figure of a girl on horseback a small girl on a very tall horse. Just as Taffy recognized her she turned her horse walked him down into the hollow beyond and disappeared. Taffy ran towards the spot gaining the ridge where she had been standing and looked down. In a hollow about 20 feet deep and perhaps a hundred wide were gathered a dozen riders with five or six couples of hounds and two or three dirty terriers. Two of the men had dismounted one of these stripped to his shirt and breeches was leaning on a long saddle and laughing. The other a fellow in a shabby scarlet coat held up what Taffy guessed to be a fox, though it seemed a very small one. It was bleeding. The hounds yapped and leapt at it and fell back atop of each other snarling while the whip grinned and kept them at bay. A knife lay between his white blunted feet and a visky clothes behind him on a heap of disturbed sand. The boy came on them from the eastward and his shadow fell across the hollow. Hello! said one of the riders looking up. It was Squire Moile himself. Here's the new parson's boy. All the riders looked up. The whip looked up too and turned to the old Squire with a wider grin than before. Shall I christen in, master? The Squire nodded. Before Taffy knew what it meant the man was climbing towards him with a grin clutching the rush-bands with one hand and holding out the blood-dabbled mask with the other. The child turned to run but a hand clutched his ankle.  At the same instant he was jerked off his feet. The edge of the bank crumbled and broke and the two went rolling down the sandy slope in a heap.  Then the grip relaxed and it seemed to him amid dead silence Taffy sprang to his feet spitting sand and fury. You, you devils! He caught up the whiskey and stood during all to come on. You devils! He taught it forward with the whiskey lifted it was all he could manage at Squire Moille. The old man let out a note and the curve of his whip thong took the boy across the eyes and blinded him for a moment but did not stop him. The grey horse swerved and half veiled exposing his flank. In another moment there would have been mischief but the whip as he stood wiping his mouth saw the danger and ran in. He struck the whiskey out of the child's grasp, set his foot on it and with an open-handed cup sent him floundering into a sand heap. Nice boy, that! said somebody and the whole company laughed as they walked their horses slowly out of the hollow. They passed before Taffy in a blur of tears and the last rider to go was a small girl on Aurea on her tall saddle. She moved up the broad shelving path but rained up just within sight, turned her horse and came slowly back to him.  She pointed in its direction.  Go away!   She eyed him while she smoothed the saddle's mane with her riding switch. They did it to me three years ago when I was six grandfather called it entering me. Taffy kept his eyes suddenly on the ground finding that he would not answer she turned her horse again and rode slowly after the others. Taffy heard the soft footfalls die away and when he looked up she had vanished. He picked up his boots and started in the direction to which she had pointed. Every now and then a sob shook him by and by the chimneys of the house hove in sight among the ridges and he ran toward it. But within a gunshot of the white garden wall his breast swelled suddenly and he flung himself on the ground and let the big tears run. They made little pits in the moving sand and more sand drifted up and covered them. Taffy Taffy! Whatever has become of the child.  He scrambled up and ran toward her. She cried out at the sight of him but he hid his blood smeared face against her skirt. End of chapter number four. Chapter number five of The Ship of Stars. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Shashank The ship of stars by Arthur Quillier Couch. Taffy rings the church bell. They were in the church. Squire Moyle, Mr. Raymond and Taffy close behind. The two men were discussing the holes in the roof and other dilapidations. One, two, three. The squire counted. I'll send a couple of men with tarpaulin and rick ropes. That'll tide us over next Sunday. Unless it blows hard. They passed up three steps under the bell fry arc. Here a big bell rested on the flooring. Its rim was cracked, but not badly. A long ladder reached up into the gloom. What's the beam like? The squire called up to someone aloft. Sound as a bell. Answered a voice. I said so. We'll have and hoisted by Sunday. I'll send a wagon over to Ville Gouniver for a tackle and winch. Damay, up there. Don't keep sharing such a muck or dust on your bettors. I can't help no other squire. Said the voice over head. Search a car, she'll play him and twigs and bird droppings. If I sneeze, I'm a lost man. Taffy, staring up as well as he could for the falling rubbish, could just buy a white smock above the beam and a glint of daylight on the toe scutes of two dangling boots. I'll damn soon make you help it. It's the beam sound. Can I tell thee so? Said the voice curilously.  Put in Mr. Raymond. The squire groaned. There I go again and in the house of God itself. Oh, tis a case with me. I've a harder stone, a harder stone.  Suddenly he faced round again. There, bell-uddy, he said to the old labourer who had just come down the ladder catch hold of my hat and carry an afford to porch. I keep forgetting I'm in church and then on he goes. The building stood half a mile from the sea, surrounded by the rolling tow vans and rabbit burrows and a few lichens spotted tombstones launting inland. Early in the 17th century the church had been shipwrecked on the coast below Nani Zaboole and Castashore the one saved out of 30. He asked to be shown a church in which to give thanks for his preservation and the people led him to a ruin bedded in the sands. It had lain since the days of Arendale's Rebellion. The Londoner vowed to build a new church there on the tow vans where the songs of prayer and praise should mingle with the people for him. The people warned him of the sand but he would not listen to reason. He built his church a squat perpendicular building of two aisles, the wider divided into nave and chancel merely by a granite step in the flooring. He saw it consecrated and returned to his home and died and the church steadily decayed. He had mixed his mortar with sea sand, the stonework oozed brine, the plaster fell the blown sand penetrated like water. The foundation sank afoot on the south side and the whole structure took a list to levered. The living passed into the hands of the Dean and Chapter of Exeter and from them in 1730 to the Moils. Mr. Raymond's predecessor was a kinsman of theirs by marriage, a pluralist who lived and died at the other end of the duchy. He had sent curates from time to time the last of whom was dead, three years since of solitude and drink but he never came himself Squire Moil having threatened to set the dogs on him if he ever set foot in Nani Zabole for there had been some dispute over a dowry. The result was that nobody went to church though a parson from the next parish held an occasional service. The people were Wesleyan Methodists or Brionites. Each sect had its own chapel in the fishing village of Ines on the western side of the parish and the Brionites a second one at the crossroads behind the towns for the miners and wardeners and scattered farm folk. Ting Ting Ting Ting Ting It was Sunday morning and Taffy was sounding the bell by a thin rope tied to its clapper. The heavy bell rope would be ready next week but humility must first contrive a woollen binding for it to prevent its chafing the ringer's hand. Out on the tow vans the rabbits heard the sound and ran scampering. Heard this father away paused in their feeding and listened with cocked ears. Ting Ting Ting Mr. Raymond stood in the bell fry boy's elbow. He wore his surplice and held his prayer book with a finger between the pages. Glancing down toward the nave he saw humility sitting in the big vicarage pew no other soul in the church. He took the cord from Taffy run to the door and see if anyone is coming. Taffy ran and after a minute came back. This choir moiled coming along the little girl with him and some servants behind five or six of them. Billy Addis won. Nobody else? I expect the people don't hear the bell said Taffy. They live too far away. God hears. Yes and God sees the lamp is lit. What lamp? Taffy looked up at his father's face wondering. All towers carry a lamp of some kind It was exactly the tone in which he had spoken that afternoon at Tuckesbury about men being like towers. Both these sentences puzzled the boy and yet Taffy never fell so near to understanding him as he had then and did again now. He was shy of his father. He did not know that his father was just as shy of him. He began to ring with all his soul. Ding ding ding ding ding The old squire entered the church, paused and blew his nose violently and taking Honoria by the hand marched her up to the end of the South Isle. The door of the great pew was shut upon them and they disappeared. Before Honoria vanished Taffy caught a glimpse of a grey felt hat with pink ribbons. The servants scattered and found seats in the body of the church. He went on ringing but no one else came. After a minute or two Mr. Raymond signed to him to stop and go to his mother which he did blushing at the noise of his shoes on the slate pavement. Mr. Raymond followed, walked slowly past and entered the reading desk. When the wicked man turned it away from his wickedness that he had committed and do it that which is lawful and right he shall save his soul life. Taffy looked toward the squire's pew. The bald top of the squire's head was just visible above the ledge. He looked up at his mother but her eyes were fastened on her prayer book. He felt he could not help it that they were all gathered to save this old man's soul and that everybody knew it and secretly thought it a hopeless case. The notion docked to him all through the service and for many Sundays after. There was always that bald head above the ledge and his father and the congregation trying to call down salvation on it. He wondered what Honoria thought, boxed up with it and able to see its face. Mr. Raymond mounted an upper pulpit to preach his sermon. He chose his text from Saint Matthew 7 verses 26 and 27 and everyone that hated these sayings of mine do with them not shall be likened unto a foolish man which built his house upon the sand. And the rain descended and the floods came and the winds blew and beat upon that house and it fell and great was the fall of it. Taffy never followed his father's sermons closely. He would listen to a sentence or two now and again and then let his wits wander. You think this church is built upon the sands. The rain has come. The winds have blown and beaten on it. The foundations have sunk and it leans to Leverd. By the blessing of God we will shore it up and upon a foundation of rock. Upon what rock you ask? Upon that rock which is the everlasting foundation of the church spiritual. Here what comfortable words are Lord's spake to Peter. Our foundation must be faith which is God's continuing presence on earth and which we shall recognize hereafter as God himself. Faith is the substance of things hoped for the evidence of things not seen. In other words it is the rock we search for draw near it and you will know yourself and God's very shadow the shadow of a great rock in a very land. As with this building there is no man covering from wrath as these walls are covering. The benediction was pronounced the pewder opened and the old man marched down the aisle looking neither to right nor to left with his jaw set like a closed gin. Honoria followed she had not so much as a glance but in passing she gazed frankly at humility home she had not seen before. humility was rather ostentatiously cheerful at dinner that day as she was signed that at heart she was disappointed she had looked for a bigger congregation Mrs. Wenning who had been carried downstairs for the meal saw this and asked few questions both the women stole glances at Mr. Raymond when they thought he was not observing them he at least pretended to observe nothing but chatted away cheerfully he said after dinner I want you to run up to Treadiness with a note from me maybe I will follow later but I must go to the village first. End of chapter number 5 Chapter number 6 of The Ship of Stars This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by A footpath let Daffy pass the church and out at length upon a high road in face of two tall granite pillars with an iron gate between the gate was surmounted with a big iron lantern and the lantern with a crest two snakes heads intertwined the gate was shut but the fence had been broken down on either side and the gap through which Daffy passed was scored with wheeled ruts he followed these down an ill-kept road bordered with fursy winds temerisks and clumps of banal broom by and by he came to a ragged plantation of stone pines bagged by a hedge of rodendrons behind which the hounds were baying in their kennels it put him in mind of the stone pines of the stone pines of the stone pines it put him in mind of the pilgrim's progress he heard the stable clock strike 3 and caught a glimpse over the shrubberries of its cupola and gilt weather cock and then a turn of the road brought him under the gloomy northern face of the house with its broad carriage, sweep and sunless portico half the windows on this side had been blocked up and painted black with white streaks down a reprisant framework he pulled at an iron bell chain which dangled by the great door the bell clanged far within and a dozen dogs took up the note yelping in full peel he heard footsteps coming the door was opened and the dogs poured out upon him spaniels, terriers, lurchers greyhounds and a big gordon setter barking at him, leaping against him sniffing his calves kept them at bay as best he could and waved his letter at a wall-eyed man in a dirty yellow waistcoat who looked down from the doorstep but did not offer to call them off any answer asked the wall-eyed man taffy could not say the man took the letter and went to inquire leaving him alone with the dogs it seemed an age before he reappeared having in the interval slipped a dirty livery coat over his yellow waistcoat the squire says you're to come in taffy and the dogs poured together into a high stone flagged hall then through a larger hall and a long dark corridor the footmen's coat for want of a loop had been hitched on a peg by its scholar and stuck out behind his neck in the most ludicrous manner but he shuffled ahead so fast that taffy, tripping and stumbling among the dogs had barely time to observe this before a door was flung open and he stood blinking in a large room full of sunlight hello here's the parson's bantam the room had four high-bear windows through which the afternoon sunshine streamed on the carpet the carpet had a pattern of pink peonies on a delicate buff ground and was shamefully dirty and the vast apartment with its white paint sketches in watercolour and statuettes under glass might have been a lady's drawing room but paint and gilding were tarnished the chins, chair covered soiled and torn the pictures hung asque and a smell of dog filled the air squire-moyle sat huddled in a deep chair beside the fireplace facing the middle of the room where a handsome high-complexion gentleman somewhat past middle age saty and dangled a gold-mounting riding crop a handsome boy knelt at the back of the gsetti and leaned over the handsome gentleman's shoulder on the floor between the two men lay a canvas bag and something moved inside it at the end of the room by the farthest window honoria knelt over a big portfolio she wore the gray frock and pink sash which taffy had seen in church that morning and she tossed her dark hair back from her eyes as she looked up the squire crumpled up the letter in his hand put the bag away he said to the handsome gentleman test sunday, italy and parson will be here in an hour this is young six foot i was telling about he turned to taffy boy go and shake hands with sir harry veil taffy did as he was bitten this is my son george said sir harry and taffy shook hands with him too and liked his face put the bag away harry said the squire just to comfort him now italy i won't look at it sir harry untied the neck of the bag and drew out a smaller one and dyed this and out strutted a game cock the old squire eyed it hmm he don't seem flourishing don't abuse a bird that's come 12 miles in a bag on purpose to cheer you up he's a match for anything you can bring tuts man he's dull, no color nor condition get along with me i wouldn't ask a bird of mine to break the sabbath for a weistrel like that sir harry drew out a shagreen covered case and opened it within on a lining of pale blue velvet small sharp instruments of steel very highly polished he lifted one, felt its point replaced it, set down the case on the carpet and fell to toying with the ears of the gordon setter which you had come sniffing out of curiosity you're a very obstinate man said squire moille after a long pause he added i suppose you're wanting odds evens will do said harry the old man turned and rang the bell tell jim to fetch in the red cock he shouted to the wall light foot men who must have been waiting in the corridor so promptly he appeared and jimp won't be long about it either whispered honoria she had come forward quietly and stood at taffy's elbow sir harry shook a finger at her and laid it on his lips but the old squire did not hear he said glum, pulling a whisker and keeping a sour eye on the bird which was strutting about and rather foolish bewilderment at the pink peonies on the carpet i'm giving you every chance he grumbled at length oh, as for that sir harry replied equally have it out in the yard if you please, on your own dunk hill no, indoors is bad enough jim appeared just then and turned out to be taffy's old enemy the whip bearing the squire's game cock in a basket he took it out, a very handsome bird with a hackle in which gold, purple and the richest brown shone and were blended sir harry had picked up his bird and was healing it with the long steel spurs a very delicate process to judge by the time occupied and the pucker on his good tempered bro ready he asked at length jim, who had been healing the squire's bird nodded and the pair were set down they ruffled and flew at each other without an instant's hesitation the visitor, which five minutes before had been staring at the carpet so foolishly was prompt enough now for a moment they paused beak to beak, eye to eye, furious with necks outstretched and hackle stiff with the rage of battle they began to rise and fall like two feathers tossing in the air very quietly but for the soft wear of wings there was no sound in the room taffy could scarcely believe they were fighting in earnest for a moment they seemed to touch to touch and no more and for a moment only but in that moment the stroke was given the home champion fluttered down stood on his legs for a moment as if nothing had happened then toppled over and lay twitching as his conqueror strutted over him and lifted his throat to crow squire moiled rose clutching the corner of his chair his mouth opened and shut but no words came sir harry caught up his bird whipped off his spurs and thrust him back into the bag the old man dropped bag letting his chin sink on his high stock collar it serves me right who shall deliver me from the wrath to come oh as for that sir harry finished tying the neck of the bag and lazily fell to fingering the setter's ear the old man was muttering to himself taffy looked at the dead bird then at honoria she was gazing at it too with untroubled eyes but i will be saved i tell you harry i will take those birds away honoria hand me my bible it's all here he tapped the heavy book miracles redemption justification by faith i will have faith i will believe every word of it harry broke in with the peel of fluff taffy had never heard a laugh so musical the old man was adjusting his spectacles but he took them off and laid them down his hands shaking with rage you came here to taunt me his voice shook as his hand me an old man with no son to my house you think because i'm seeking higher things there's no fight left in us or in the parish i tell you what boy of yours strip and stand up and i'll back the parson's youngster for doubles or quits off with your coat my son and stand up to him taffy turned around in a daze he did not understand his eyes met honorias and they were fastened on him curiously he was white in the face the sight of the murdered game cock had sickened him he doesn't look flourishing sir harry mimicked the squire's recent manner taffy turned with the look of a hunted animal he did not want to fight he hated this house and its inhabitants the other boy was tripping off his jacket with a good humored smile hi i don't want taffy began fumbling with the button please off with your coat boy you were game enough the other day if you look in i'll put a new roof on your father's church taffy was still fumbling with his jacket button with a bell sounded the house the person squire moll clutched at his bible like a child who has been caught playing in school sir harry stepped to the window and flung up the sash out you tumbled youngsters you too miss if you like pick up your coat charge cut and run to the stables i'll be round in a minute quick out you go the child scrambled over the sill and dropped onto the stone terrace his father closed the sash behind him george will laughed out then taffy began to laugh he laughed all the way as they ran when they reached the stables he was swaying with laughter there was a heaping stalk by the stable wall and he flung himself onto the slate steps he could not stop laughing the two others stared at him they thought he had gone mad here comes dad cried george vile for taffy he sat up and brushed his eyes sir harry whistled for jim and told him to saddle the horses george and onoria stood by the stable door and watched the saddling the horses were let out sir harry's a doll grey george's a roan cob look here sir harry said to jim you take my bird and comfort your master with him i don't want him anymore the two rode out off the yard and onoria planted herself in front of taffy would you have fought just now she asked i don't know that's my father calling but would you have fought i must go to him he would not look her in the face tell me don't bother i don't know he ran out of the yard end of chapter number six chapter seven of the ship of stars this is a labor box recording all labor box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit laborbox.org the ship of stars by arthur quillar couch chapter seven george it appeared that onoria and taffy were to do lessons together and mr raymond was to teach them the meaning of his visit to trindinus house they began the very next day in the library of trindinus a deserted room carpeted with badgers skins and lined with undusted books works on farrier re veterinary surgery and sporting subjects long rows of the annual register the armenian magazine taffy began by counting the badgers skins there were 18 and the moths had got into them so that the draft under the door puffed little drifts of hair over the polished boards then he settled down to the first latin the clinchin musa a muse vocative musa o muse genitive musee of a muse hanoria began upon the abc mr raymond brought a pile of his own books and worked at them scribbling notes in the margin or on long slips of paper while the children learned a servant came in with a message from squire moll and he left them for a while i called this nonsense said hanoria how am i to get these silly letters into my head taffy was glad of the chance to show off oh, that's easy you make up a tale about them a is the end of a house it's just like one with a beam across b is a cat with his tail curled under him watch me drawing it c is an old woman stooping d is another cat only his back is more rounded once upon a time there lived in a cottage an old woman went about with two cats one on each side of her that's how you go on but i can't go on you must do it for me well, each of these cats had a comb and was combed every saturday night one was a good cat and kept his comb properly like e uc but the other had broken a tooth out of his that's f i expect he was a full mart taffy agreed he didn't know what a full mart was but he was not going to confess it so he went on hurriedly and hanariah thought him a wonder they came to w so they got into a ship i'll show you how to make one out of paper exactly like w and sailed up into the sky for the ship was a ship of stars you make x's for stars but that's a witch ship so it stuck fast in y which is a clef and then came a stroke of lightning z and burnt them all up he stopped out of breath i don't understand the ending at all said hanariah what is a ship of stars haven't you ever seen one no i have there's a story about it tell me about it i'll tell you lots of stories afterwards about the frog king and Aladdin and man friday and the girl who trod on a loaf and the ship of stars no taffy felt himself blushing that's one of the stories that won't come and they're the loveliest of all he added in a burst of confidence hanariah thought for a moment but did not understand in the least all she said was funny words you use she went back to her alphabet a house b cat it came more easily now after lessons she made him tell her a story and taffy who wished to be amusing told her about the valiant taylor who killed seven at a blow to his disgust it scarcely made her smile but after this she was always asking for stories and always listened solemnly with her dark eyes fixed on his face she never seemed to admire him at all for his gift but treated it with a kind of indulgent wonder as if he were some queer animal with uncommon tricks this dashed taffy a bit for he liked to be thought a fine fellow but he went on telling his stories and sometimes invented new ones for her George vile was much more appreciative sir harry had heard of the lessons and wrote to beg that his son might join the class so george wrote over three times a week to learn latin which he did with uncommon slowness but he thought taffy's stories stunning and admired him without a shade of envy the two boys liked each other and when they were alone taffy stood an inch or two higher in self-conceit than when honoria happened to be by but he took more pains with his stories if she was listening as for her lessons honoria got through them by honest plotting she never quite saw the use of them but she liked mr. Raymond she learned more steadily than either of the boys one day george wrote over with two parrots of boxing gloves dangling from his saddle taffy and taffy had a try with them in a clearing behind the shrubberies where the gardener had heaped his sweepings of dry leaves to rot down for manure but look here said george after the first round you'll never learn if you hit so wild as that you must keep your head up and watch my eyes and faint taffy couldn't help it as soon as ever he struck out he forgot that it was not real fighting and he felt ashamed to look george straight in the face for his own eyes were full of tears of excitement at the end of the bout when george said now we must shake hands it's the proper thing to do he looked bewildered for a moment it made george laugh in his easy way and then taffy laughed too after this they had a bout almost every day and he was soon able to hold his own and treated as sport but somehow he always felt a passion behind it whispering to him to put some nastiness into his blows especially when anorea came to look on and he liked george far better than he liked anorea indeed he adored george and the monday wednesday and friday mornings when george appeared were the bright spots in his week lessons were over at 12 o'clock by one o'clock taffy had to be home for dinner loneliness filled the afternoons but the child peopled them with extravagant fancies he and george were crusaders sworn to defend the holy seplica and bound by an oath of brotherhood though george was a red cross knight and he a plain squire and after the most surprising adventures taffy received the barbed and poisoned arrow intended for his master and died most impressively with george and anorea and richard curd elion and most of the characters from ivonhoe sobbing around his bed there was a blondel variant too with george imprisoned in a high tower and a monstrous conglomerate tale in which most of the heroes of history and romance played second fiddle to george who's pre-eminence though occasionally challenged by achilles, serlancelot or the black prince was regularly vindicated by taffy's timely help this tale with endless variations actually lasted him for two good years the scene of it never lay among the toans but round about his old home for the well-remembered meadow at tuxbury that was his plane of Troy his field of Chrissy his lists of Ashby Dela Sush the high road at the back of the toans crossed a stream by a ford and a footbridge and the traveling postman if he had any letters for the parsonage would stop at the footbridge and blow a horn he little guessed what challenges it sounded to the small boy who came running for the post the postman came by as a rule at two o'clock or thereabouts one afternoon in early spring Mr. Raymond happened to be starting for a walk when the horn was blown and he and taffy went to meet the post together there were three or four letters which the vicar opened and one for humility which he put in his pocket in the midst of his reading Mr. Raymond looked up smiled over his spectacles and said Oxford has won the boat race taffy had been deep in the fifth a knee-ed for some weeks and boat racing ran much in his mind who is Oxford he asked Mr. Raymond took off his spectacles and wiped them it came on him suddenly that this child whom he loved Oxford is a city he answered and added the most beautiful city in the world shall I ever go there taffy asked Mr. Raymond walked off without seeming to hear the question but that evening after supper he told the most wonderful tales of Oxford while taffy listened and hoped his mother would forget his bedtime and humility listened too bending over her the love with which he looked back to Oxford was the second passion of Samuel Raymond's life and humility was proud of it not jealous at all he forgot all the struggle all the slights all the grip of poverty to him those years had become a heroic age and men, Homeric men and so he made them appear to taffy to whom it was wonderful that his father should have moved among such giants and shall I go there too humility glanced up quickly and met her husband's eyes some day please God she said Mr. Raymond stared at the embers of Wreck Wood on the hearth from that night Oxford became the main scene of taffy's imaginings a holy fictitious Oxford pieced together of odds and ends from picture books and peopled with all the old heroes and so with contests on the models of the fifth onion the story went forward gallantly for many months but the afternoons were long and at times the interminable sandhills an everlasting roar of the CEO pressed the child with a sense of loneliness beyond words the rabbits would not make friends with him and he ached for companionship of that ache was born his half-crazy adoration of George Lyle there were hours when he lay in some nook of the toans peering on the ground seeing pictures in the sand pictures of men and regiments and battles shifting with the restless drift until unable to bear it moving out his hands to efface them and hit his face in the sand sobbing George, George at night he would creep out of bed to watch the lighthouse winking away in the northeast George lived somewhere beyond and again it would be George, George and when the happy mornings came and George with them taffy was as shy as a lover so George never guessed it might have surprised that very careless young gentleman when he looked up from his verbs which govern the dative and caught taffy's eye could he have seen himself in his halo there? End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Of the Ship of Stars This is a Leap of Box recording All Leap of Box recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit Leapofox.org The Ship of Stars by Arthur Quiller Couch Chapter 8 The Squire's Soul Two years passed and a third winter the church was now well on its way to restoration the roof had been repaired the defective timbers removed and sound ones inserted the south wall strengthened the three buttresses the foundations on that side examined and shored up the old squire did not halt here furniture arrived for the interior a handsome altar cloth a small gilt cross a dozen hanging lamps an oaken lectern cushions, hymn books a big new bible with purple book markers he promised to take out the east window which was just a patchwork of common glass like a cucumber frame and replace it with sound mullions and stained glass in memory of his only daughter Honorea's mother she had run away from Trindina's house and married a penniless captain and Honorea's surname was Callister though nobody uttered it in the old man's hearing husband and wife had died in India of cholera within three years of their marriage and the old man had sent for the child having relented so far he went on to do it thoroughly in his own fashion he neglected Honorea but she might have anything she wanted for the asking it seemed though that she wanted very little he allowed Mr. Raymond to choose the design for this window he only stipulated that the subject should be Jonah and the whale there's no story you'll compare with it for trying a man's faith when the window came and was erected he complained that it left out most of the whale of which the jaws and one wicked little red eye were all that appeared it looks half hearted why didn't they swim in all in by that story but they've made it neck and nothing and after coloring in violet too in return the vicar had hunted up some county histories and heraldic works in the library at Trindinus and was now busy re-emblazing with his own hand the devices carved on the moille pew little by little too the congregation had grown people came shyly at first they mistrusted the established church but they treated the vicar with politeness when he visited them and seeing him so awkward and how with all his book learning he listened to their opinions and blushed when he offered any small service they grew to like him being shy themselves they pitted him too knowing the old square from Sunday to Sunday taffy pulling at his rope in the belfry counted the newcomers and humility talked about them on the way home and at dinner they were fisher folk for the most part the men in blue guernseys and corduroy trousers and some with curled black beards and rings in their ears the women in gayer colors than you see in an up country church a southern seeming race with southern sounding names santo jose bennett they belonged to the class which chris called his apostles sometimes scanning an olive colored face he would be reminded of the sea of genus erreth and a minute later the sight of the gray coastline with its world spray would chill the fancy the congregation always lingered outside the porch after service and then one would say to another wall there's more in the man than you'd think see you up to the meeting this evening I suppose so long but having come once they came again and the family at the parsonage were full of hope though taffy longed sometimes for a playfellow and sometimes for he knew not what and humility bent over her lace pillow and thought of green lanes and of beer village and women at work by sunshiny doorways and wondered if their faces had changed oh, that I were where I would be then would I be where I am not but where I am there I must be and where I would be I cannot she never told a soul of her home thoughts her husband never guessed them but taffy without knowing why whenever this verse from his old playbook came into his head connected it with his mother but the old squire was getting impatient he took quite a futile view of the saving of his soul and would have dragged the whole parish to church by main force had it been possible afternoon taffy was lying in one of his favorite nooks in the lee of the toans when he heard voices and looked up and there set the old gentle man gazing down on him from horseback with bill yudi at his side the squire was in hunting dress what be doing down there he asked praying no sir I wish you would I wish you'd pray for me that a child will do good sometimes when grown folk can't I doubt your father isn't going to do the good I look for from him he don't believe in sudden conversion here bill take the mare and lead her home he dismounted and seated himself with the grown on the edge of the sand pit look here I've got convictions of sin but I can't get no what's to be done I don't know sir taffy stammered with his eyes on the squire's spurs you can pray for me I suppose yes sir well do it do it tonight I've got convictions but my heart's like a stone I've had a wished day of it if the weather holds back I may fox this year but where's the comfort all the time today it was lippity lop no peace for the wicked lippity lop no peace for the wicked I couldn't stand it I came away you'll do it won't he yes sir is your father at home I'll call and speak to him he does me good he tapped his breast and rising without another word strode off across the sandhills with his head down and his hands clasped beneath his coat tails which flapped in the wind as he went taffy ran and overtook Bill Udy and the mayor he's in a wished poor state idin a said Bill Udy who was parish clerk bless ee the mayor of use his father before in was took in just the same way turned religious late in life what do you think he did got his man together one Sunday morning marched them up to Meaton house up to four turnins slipped his ride and cropped through the haps or the door and now my billies says he through the keyhole not a man or woman of leaves the place till you've said the amazing creed come along he says whosoever will be saved and the sooner tis over the sooner you gets home to dinner a fine talk there was squire he's just such another funny things heva a done married a poor soul from rose land way a miss chivanion quite a better most lady when miss susanna was born that's miss anoria's mother she went to be churched what must he do to show his annoyance that wasn't a boy but drive as she asked into church very stiff behavior he drove the beast right for and into the big pew the moils you see if got a meal for their shield of arms he had his own way too much that's of it one day he dropped into church just before sarman time there was a rabbit squatting outside pond his father's tombstone squire crept up and clapped his sunday hat pond top of in took him into church one of the curate chaps was preaching a timorous little fella by and by squire slips out his rabbit boys we'll have for dinner the curate fella ran out to door and the rabbit after and folks did say the rabbit was the old squire soul and that he'd turned black inside the young squire's hat very stiff behavior he've had his own way too much that's what it is when he was pricked for sheriff he hired a ramshackle poiche painted a mule pond the panel and stuffed the footmen stockings with brand till it looked a case of dropsy he was annoyed at being put to the expense the judge lost his temper at being met in such a way and pitched into an open court especially about the mule he didn't know it was the squire's shield of arms squire stood it for some time but at last he ups and says if you was an old woman of mine I'd dress ye different and if you was an old woman of mine and kept scolding like that I'd have ye in the duck and stool for your sauce he almost went to jail for that but they put it on the ground the judge had insulted his shield of arms and so he got off well wish ye well don't you trouble about he he've had his own way too much but he won't get it this time that night taffy dreamt that he met squire mule walking along the shore but the sand clogged him his spurs sank in it and his riding boots when he was ankle deep he began to call out pray for me then taffy saw black rabbit running on the firm sand to the breakers and the squire cried pray for me I must catch him tis my father's soul running off and put his hand into his breast and drew out a stone and flung it but the stone as soon as it touched the sand turned into another rabbit and the pair ran off together along the shore the old man tried to follow but the sand held him and the tide was rising end of chapter 8 chapter 9 of the ship of stars this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the ship of stars by Arthur Quiller Couch chapter 9 enter the king's postman a faint south wind murmured beneath the eaves it died away and for an hour there was peace on the toans then the sands began to trickle again and the rushes to whisper and bend away from the sea toward the high moors over which the gulls had flown yesterday and disappeared by and by a spit or two of rain came flying out of the black northwest the drops fell on the path of the sand but the sand drove over and covered them racing faster and faster day rose and taffy awoke the house walls were shaking with each blow the wind ran up a scale of notes and ended with a howl he looked out and melted into one only now and then white surf line heaved into sight and melted back into gray after breakfast he and his father started to battle their way to Trindinus house while humility barricaded the door behind them taffy wore a suit of oilers of which he was mightily proud they made their way under the lee of the toans to escape the stinging sand within Trindinus Gates they found a couple of pine trees blown down across the road and scrambled over their trunks before lessons taffy boasted a lot of his journey to Onaria and almost forgot to be sorry that George did not appear though it was Wednesday they had no trouble in reaching home the gale hurled them along taffy leaning his back against it could scarcely feel his feet touching ground fastened the door looking white and anxious before they could close it again the wind swept a big dish off the dresser with a crash taffy slept soundly that night he did not hear a knocking which sounded on the house door soon after 11 o'clock the band who knocked came from Treseter one of the more farms oh sir did ye see the rockets go up over Innis men down upon the island rocks taffy slept on when he came downstairs next morning there was a stranger in the kitchen a little old man huddled in a blanket before the great fireplace where a line of clothes hung drying humility was stooping to wedges and bag under the door she looked up at taffy with a one little smile there has been a wreck she said glory be he claimed the stranger from the fireplace taffy glanced at him but could see little more than the back of a bald head above the blankets where's the ship he asked gone answered the vicar coming at that moment from the inner room where his books were she must have broken up in less than 10 minutes after she struck the island parted and gone down in six fathoms of water and the men was father there he bewildered taffy that all this should have happened while he was sleeping there was no time to fix the rocket apparatus she was late in making her distress signals but I doubt if anything could have been done she went down too quickly but taffy's gaze wandered to the bald head he was washed clean over the ridge where she struck and swept into innis pool one big wave carried him into safety one man out of six hallelujah cried the rescued man facing round in his chair might often scat like an eggshell and here I'd be shouting praises taffy saw that he was a clean shaven little fellow with puckered cheeks and two wisps of gray hair curling forward from his ears Mr. Raymond frowned I am sure said he you ought not to be talking so much I will sing and give praise sir begon your pardon with the best member that I have who is weak and I am not weak who is offended and I burn not hallelujah amen he took his basin of bread and milk from humility's hand and ate by the fire she had wrung his clothes through fresh water and as soon as they were thoroughly dry he retired upstairs to change he came back to his seat by the fire now I be like puzzle Paul he said rubbing his hands and stretching them out to the blaze after his shipwreck you know when the folks pond the island showed in kindness this is the Lord's doing and it is marvelous in your eyes not fearing nor doubting with Christ by my side I hopes to die shouting the Lord will provide humility thought that for certain the shipwreck had turned his head but where do you come from she asked they call me Jackie Pasco ma'am but I calls myself the king's postman Jackie Pasco is my name Windrun is my nation nowhere is my dwelling place for Christ is my salvation I was brought to a minor over to Will Jewel in Il Logan Parish but God conversion in your sense and now I go about praising the name I've been minor Coffindor Cooper Mason Seaman Scissor Grinder Umbrella Mender holy bober all my turns I sticks my hands in my pockets and waits on the Lord and what he tells me to do I do this day week I was up to Fawih working on the tip footnote there was a little schooner there the Garibaldi of Newport discharging coal the Lord said to me arise go in that there schooner I sought out the skipper and said where be bound for next back to Newport says he that'll suit me I says and persuaded in to take me but the Lord knew where she were bound better in the skipper and here I be it seemed to his hearers that this man took little thought of his drowned shipmates Mr. Raymond looked up as he strapped his boots together you are not the only man in that schooner he said rather severely glory be who be I to question the Lord's ways one day I picked up a map and seed a place on it called once great deliverance says I and I started clean off and walk to the place though I'd never so much as heard of it till then it was harvest time there and I danced into the field shouting glory glory the harvest is plenty but the laborers be few the farmer was moved to give me a job pond the spot I bided there two years and built them a chapel and preach the word in it they offered me money to stop and preach and I laid it before the Lord but he said you're the king's postman keep moving, keep on moving I built two more chapels since then late that afternoon three bodies were recovered from the sea the captain, the mate and a boy of about sixteen and were buried in the churchyard next day as soon as the inquest was over Pasco followed the coffins and pointed the service at the graveside with interjections of his own glory be, amen hallelujah, great redemption to the vicar's surprise the small crowd after a minute began to follow the man's lead until at length he could scarcely read for these interruptions at supper that night Pasco sprang a question on the vicar be you converted? he asked, looking up with his mouth full of bread and cheese I hope so ah, you hopes it is a bad case with ye then, when a man's converted he knows semen to me, you bant you don't show enough of the bright side now, as I go along my very toes keep ticking salvation down goes one foot glory be, down goes the other amen ah, I must dance for joy he got up and danced around the kitchen I wish the man would go humility thought to herself his very next words answered her wish I'll be leaving tomorrow friends, I've got a room down to the village and I've borrowed a razor I'm going to tramp round the mines at the back here and shave the miners a chimney, a chin that'll pay my way there's a new preacher planned to the Bible Christians down to Innis as I am going to help he my dears, don't ye tell me the Lord didn't know what he was about when he cast the garbaldi ashore he left the parsonage next day ma'am, he said to humility I salute this here house peace beyond this here house for it is worthy he that receiveth the prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet's reward two mornings later, taffy looking out from his bedroom window soon after daybreak saw the prophet trudging along the road he had a clean white bag slung across his shoulder it carried his soap and razors, no doubt and every now and then he waved his walking stick and skipped as he went end of chapter 9


Question is from Brandon LPZ.  Do you practice it or should we just slap our faces, get angry and pick up the weight? This is a, you know, it's a power lifting mentality right here. It's an interesting question. Have you guys ever used smelling salts? Yes. I have. What do you guys think about it? They work. They're awesome. Dude, I get like hyper focused. My central nervous systems tends to respond a little bit more. It's the same kind of thing. If I have like that perfect song, you know, I already have pretty decent energy going into the lift, but now I have like that one song that I can get to that place where I just, I feel just like, like you get this like internal extra gear somehow. It's true. You know, if I get, and this works well when I'm going to do a heavy low rep set, like to get just amped or angry, doesn't work so well when I'm doing high rep sets because I'll gas myself out. I need something calmer to keep me kind of, you know, consistent, but it does work now. Studies show, I don't know if there's any studies on this particular, but studies show that music makes a big difference. That when you're listening to a song that tends to make you feel uplifted, it actually reduces the perception of pain that you have. So if something normally hurts at a level 10, listening to music that motivates you, inspires you, lowers it down to, you know, maybe an eight or a seven. It's not only that. Your brain is the main hub where everything starts. So if you're distracted about your day earlier that was going on or the stress you got at work or if your mind is in other places and doing things like getting slapped from your friend or listening to that song helps you stay present. And in the moment, there's gotta be a ton of value just from that alone.  Absolutely. So almost every time. Some of my best lifting for sure was during the time that I was into competing because my mind was so much into it and I really think that I had a lot, of course, consistency and volume and all the stuff that we've studied and researched and understand as far as being on the build muscle mattered, yes. But I also think there was a ton of value in just I was so into it during that time that I went to bed thinking about my workout in the morning, I was at work and I was eating my meals thinking about what I was gonna be training in two or three hours. I was so excited to get there. I had my playlist already. I mean, I'm so focused on what I'm about to do. Some of the best lifts came out of that. And even if I was well rested, well fed and all these other things, but I was mentally distracted somewhere else, it's really tough to call upon everything I need especially to do a big lift like a squat or a deadlift. You know, it's very similar to when I played sports and I had a very, very intentional, very specific ritual that I would do every time before like a big game or like something where I knew that like, you know, my performance was on the line. Like it was gonna be really demanding. And I would make sure like nobody could talk to me. I was just like completely just by myself and just thinking, thinking, thinking and being quiet. And that really helped me get out there to get to a relaxed state where I was like, I was just there, it was all banked in mentally to where I didn't have to then keep repeating and relaying it in my head. So that's a really good point. And it actually reminds me of something that I answered to somebody who asked about the way I walked up to my deadlift and I do this thing where I raise my arms. And you know, when you have a movement like a deadlift or a squat or a head of press, there's so much that's being communicated through your entire body that there's all these little cues and it's taken me practice and practice and practice to remember all those cues and having a routine of the way you walk up to the bar helps me kind of settle that. The whole lifting the arms thing is to remind myself to activate my lats before I go in there. It's like, it's just, it's now become this routine. So I don't have to like- It's like you're pushing all the levers to get you into that zone. Yes. So, you know, if there's, you know, some people might need to get slapped I guess to do that.  I mean, I've seen it help some of these like powerlifters and get a little excessive with it sometimes, but- No, your mind plays most of the role in how much power you can generate, how strong you are. It's funny, you know, if you're gonna do some, this is at least I figured this out for me, if I'm going to do something that is causing me already to be hyped and maybe a little anxious, then hyping myself further is a bad idea. So like, if I'm gonna go and do a speech in front of 500 people and I'm hyped about it and I'm excited and I'm a little bit nervous about it, hyping myself further gives me too much stimulus, too much stimulation and it actually reduced my performance. Now, before I lift, I have zero nervousness. I've lifted weights a trillion times.  But for other things, it seems like the opposite would be true. Where you'd wanna actually be more of a calm- Yes. In a calm zone. You don't necessarily wanna go in there super hyped. Martial arts, martial artists.  Martial artists practice the opposite. They practice calm and chi and go in there. Wouldn't you think that that has to do more with like CNS, right? Oh, you're gonna fight.   Cause you're, if you've ever done a competition, well, also like before judo tournament or jujitsu tournament, I'm nervous one week before. So if I hide myself up, I'm exhausted. You know what I mean? I got to work on calming myself down. Anyways, it's reminding me of a story actually. I totally forgot this. Yeah, I had a client years ago that was training for a marathon and it was a marathon to raise money for cancer research. She had lost her sister. So it's a very important thing for her. She definitely wasn't somebody that should have, she wasn't a runner. She was deconditioned, had, you know, hired me to train her. We'd only been working out for about six months. She wasn't a runner.  And she's like, I want to do this run. It really means a lot to me. So I helped her as much as I could and a marathon is a long run. Well, anyway, her husband made a playlist for her and put her favorite music on there and he did such a good job. And as she's listening to, and this brings chills as I'm talking about it, on the playlist towards the back half of the run when she got down to like, you know, like there was only four miles left or whatever when it's like the most difficult. The in between the songs was her kids telling her, mommy, you can do this, you're so strong. Mommy, you're my hero. I love you. And then another one from her husband, another one from her mom or whatever. And she actually got faster at the end toward like the last four. And how crazy is that, right? Gives you the chills. Yeah, it is. Wow.