Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California
by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #28857 · 713,176 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California
Author: G. A. Henty
Illustrator: H. M. Paget
Release date: May 17, 2009 [eBook #28857]
Most recently updated: November 5, 2013
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN BAYLEY'S HEIR: A TALE OF THE GOLD FIELDS OF CALIFORNIA ***
Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
CAPTAIN BAYLEY'S HEIR
A TALE OF THE GOLD FIELDS OF CALIFORNIA.
BY G. A. HENTY
CAPTAIN BAYLEY'S HEIR.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN BAYLEY HEARS STARTLING NEWS.]
CAPTAIN BAYLEY'S HEIR:
A TALE OF THE GOLD FIELDS OF CALIFORNIA.
BY
G. A. HENTY,
Author of "With Clive in India;" "Facing Death;" "For Name and Fame;"
"True to the Old Flag;" "A Final Beckoning;" &c.
_WITH TWELVE FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
BY H. M. PAGET._
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
SCRIBNER AND WELFORD
743 & 745 BROADWAY.
CONTENTS.
Chap. Page
I. WESTMINSTER! WESTMINSTER! 9
II. A COLD SWIM, 25
III. A CRIPPLE BOY, 42
IV. AN ADOPTED CHILD, 58
V. A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION, 75
VI. AT NEW ORLEANS, 92
VII. ON THE MISSISSIPPI, 107
VIII. STARTING FOR THE WEST, 127
IX. ON THE PLAINS, 154
X. A BUFFALO STORY, 173
XI. HOW DICK LOST HIS SCALP, 186
XII. THE ATTACK ON THE CARAVAN, 206
XIII. AT THE GOLD-FIELDS, 223
XIV. CAPTAIN BAYLEY, 238
XV. THE MISSING HEIR, 253
XVI. JOHN HOLL, DUST CONTRACTOR, 268
XVII. THE LONELY DIGGERS, 285
XVIII. A DREAM VERIFIED, 306
XIX. STRIKING IT RICH, 324
XX. A MESSAGE FROM ABROAD, 341
XXI. HAPPY MEETINGS, 360
XXII. CLEARED AT LAST, 374
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
CAPTAIN BAYLEY HEARS STARTLING NEWS, _Frontis._ 262
THE RESCUE FROM THE SERPENTINE, 32
THE BREAK-UP OF THE CHARTIST MEETING, 72
FRANK'S VISIT TO MR. HIRAM LITTLE'S OFFICE, 101
A FLOOD ON THE MISSISSIPPI, 125
A DEER-HUNT ON THE PRAIRIE, 162
THE ESCAPE OF THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER, 195
DICK AND FRANK ELUDE THE INDIANS, 227
THE SICK FRIEND IN THE MINING CAMP, 296
GOLD-WASHING--A GOOD DAY'S WORK, 329
THE ATTACK ON THE GOLD ESCORT, 338
MEETING OF CAPTAIN BAYLEY AND MR. ADAMS, 352
[Illustration]
CAPTAIN BAYLEY'S HEIR.
CHAPTER I.
WESTMINSTER! WESTMINSTER!
A CRIPPLE boy was sitting in a box on four low wheels, in a little room
in a small street in Westminster; his age was some fifteen or sixteen
years; his face was clear-cut and intelligent, and was altogether free
from the expression either of discontent or of shrinking sadness so
often seen in the face of those afflicted. Had he been sitting on a
chair at a table, indeed, he would have been remarked as a handsome and
well-grown young fellow; his shoulders were broad, his arms powerful,
and his head erect. He had not been born a cripple, but had been
disabled for life, when a tiny child, by a cart passing over his legs
above the knees. He was talking to a lad a year or so younger than
himself, while a strong, hearty-looking woman, somewhat past middle age,
stood at a wash-tub.
"What is all that noise about?" the cripple exclaimed, as an uproar was
heard in the street at some little distance from the house.
"Drink, as usual, I suppose," the woman said.
The younger lad ran to the door.
"No, mother; it's them scholars a-coming back from cricket. Ain't there
a fight jist!"
The cripple wheeled his box to the door, and then taking a pair of
crutches which rested in hooks at its side when not wanted, swung
himself from the box, and propped himself in the doorway so as to
command a view down the street.
It was indeed a serious fight. A party of Westminster boys, on their way
back from their cricket-ground in St. Vincent's Square, had been
attacked by the "skies." The quarrel was an old standing one, but had
broken out afresh from a thrashing which one of the older lads had
administered on the previous day to a young chimney-sweep about his own
age, who had taken possession of the cricket-ball when it had been
knocked into the roadway, and had, with much strong language, refused to
throw it back when requested.
The friends of the sweep determined to retaliate upon the following day,
and gathered so threateningly round the gate that, instead of the boys
coming home in twos and threes, as was their wont, when playtime
expired, they returned in a body. They were some forty in number, and
varied in age from the little fags of the Under School, ten or twelve
years old, to brawny muscular young fellows of seventeen or eighteen,
senior Queen's Scholars, or Sixth Form town boys. The Queen's Scholars
were in their caps and gowns, the town boys were in ordinary attire, a
few only having flannel cricketing trousers.
On first leaving the field they were assailed only by volleys of abuse;
but as they made their way down the street their assailants grew bolder,
and from words proceeded to blows, and soon a desperate fight was
raging. In point of numbers the "skies" were vastly superior, and many
of them were grown men; but the knowledge of boxing which almost every
Westminster boy in those days possessed, and the activity and quickness
of hitting of the boys, went far to equalise the odds.
Pride in their school, too, would have rendered it impossible for any to
show the white feather on such an occasion as this, and with the younger
boys as far as possible in their centre, the seniors faced their
opponents manfully. Even the lads of but thirteen and fourteen years old
were not idle. Taking from the fags the bats which several of the latter
were carrying, they joined in the conflict, not striking at their
opponents' heads, but occasionally aiding their seniors, when attacked
by three or four at once, by swinging blows on their assailant's shins.
Man after man among the crowd had gone down before the blows straight
from the shoulder of the boys, and many had retired from the contest
with faces which would for many days bear marks of the fight; but their
places were speedily filled up, and the numbers of the assailants grew
stronger every minute.
"How well they fight!" the cripple exclaimed. "Splendid! isn't it,
mother? But there are too many against them. Run, Evan, quick, down to
Dean's Yard; you are sure to find some of them playing at racquets in
the Little Yard, tell them that the boys coming home from cricket have
been attacked, and that unless help comes they will be terribly knocked
about."
Evan dashed off at full speed. Dean's Yard was but a few minutes' run
distant. He dashed through the little archway into the yard, down the
side, and then in at another archway into Little Dean's Yard, where some
elder boys were playing at racquets. A fag was picking up the balls, and
two or three others were standing at the top of the steps of the two
boarding-houses.
"If you please, sir," Evan said, running up to one of the
racquet-players, "there is just a row going on; they are all pitching
into the scholars on their way back from Vincent Square, and if you
don't send help they will get it nicely, though they are all fighting
like bricks."
"Here, all of you," the lad he addressed shouted to the others; "our
fellows are attacked by the 'skies' on their way back from fields. Run
up College, James; the fellows from the water have come back." Then he
turned to the boys on the steps, "Bring all the fellows out quick; the
'skies' are attacking us on the way back from the fields. Don't let them
wait a moment."
It was lucky that the boys who had been on the water in the two eights,
the six, and the fours, had returned, or at that hour there would have
been few in the boarding-houses or up College. Ere a minute had elapsed
these, with a few others who had been kept off field and water from
indisposition, or other causes, came pouring out at the summons--a body
some thirty strong, of whom fully half were big boys. They dashed out of
the gate in a body, and made their way to the scene of the conflict.
They were but just in time; the compact group of the boys had been
broken up, and every one now was fighting for himself.
They had made but little progress towards the school since Evan had
started, and the fight was now raging opposite his house. The cripple
was almost crying with excitement and at his own inability to join in
the fight going on. His sympathies were wholly with "the boys," towards
whose side he was attached by the disparity of their numbers compared to
those of their opponents, and by the coolness and resolution with which
they fought.
"Just look at those two, mother--those two fighting back to back. Isn't
it grand! There! there is another one down; that is the fifth I have
counted. Don't they fight cool and steady? and they almost look smiling,
though the odds against them are ten to one. O mother, if I could but go
to help them!"
Mrs. Holl herself was not without sharing his excitement. Several times
she made sorties from her doorstep, and seized more than one hulking
fellow in the act of pummelling a youngster half his size, and shook him
with a vigour which showed that constant exercise at the wash-tub had
strengthened her arms.
"Yer ought to be ashamed of yerselves, yer ought; a whole crowd of yer
pitching into a handful o' boys."
But her remonstrances were unheeded in the din,--which, however, was
raised entirely by the assailants, the boys fighting silently, save when
an occasional shout of "Hurrah, Westminster!" was raised. Presently Evan
dashed through the crowd up to the door.
"Are they coming, Evan?" the cripple asked eagerly.
"Yes, 'Arry; they will be 'ere in a jiffy."
A half-minute later, and with shouts of "Westminster! Westminster!" the
reinforcement came tearing up the street.
Their arrival in an instant changed the face of things. The "skies" for
a moment or two resisted; but the muscles of the eight--hardened by the
training which had lately given them victory over Eton in their annual
race--stood them in good stead, and the hard hitting of the "water" soon
beat back the lately triumphant assailants of "cricket." The united band
took the offensive, and in two or three minutes the "skies" were in full
flight.
"We were just in time, Norris," one of the new-comers said to the tall
lad in cricketing flannels whose straight hitting had particularly
attracted the admiration of Harry Holl.
"Only just," the other said, smiling; "it was a hot thing, and a pretty
sight we shall look up School to-morrow. I shall have two thundering
black eyes, and my mouth won't look pretty for a fortnight; and, by the
look of them, most of the others have fared worse. It's the biggest
fight we have had for years. But I don't think the 'skies' will
interfere with us again for some time, for every mark we've got they've
got ten. Won't there be a row in School to-morrow when Litter sees that
half the Sixth can't see out of their eyes."
Not for many years had the lessons at Westminster been so badly prepared
as they were upon the following morning--indeed, with the exception of
the half and home-boarders, few of whom had shared in the fight, not a
single boy, from the Under School to the Sixth, had done an exercise or
prepared a lesson. Study indeed had been out of the question, for all
were too excited and too busy talking over the details of the battle to
be able to give the slightest attention to their work.
Many were the tales of feats of individual prowess; but all who had
taken part agreed that none had so distinguished themselves as Frank
Norris, a Sixth Form town boy, and captain of the eight--who, for a
wonder had for once been up at fields--and Fred Barkley, a senior in
the Sixth. But, grievous and general as was the breakdown in lessons
next day, no impositions were set; the boarding-house masters, Richards
and Sargent, had of course heard all about it at tea-time, as had Johns,
who did not himself keep a boarding-house, but resided at Carr's, the
boarding-house down by the great gate.
These, therefore, were prepared for the state of things, and contented
themselves by ordering the forms under their charge to set to work with
their dictionaries and write out the lessons they should have prepared.
The Sixth did not get off so easily. Dr. Litter, in his lofty solitude
as head-master, had heard nothing of what had passed; nor was it until
the Sixth took their places in the library and began to construe that
his attention was called to the fact that something unusual had
happened. But the sudden hesitation and blundering of the first "put
on," and the inability of those next to him to correct him, were too
marked to be passed over, and he raised his gold-rimmed eye-glasses to
his eyes and looked round.
Dr. Litter was a man standing some six feet two in height, stately in
manner, somewhat sarcastic in speech,--a very prodigy in classical
learning, and joint author of the great treatise _On the Uses of the
Greek Particle_. Searchingly he looked from face to face round the
library.
"I cannot," he said, with a curl of his upper lip, and the cold and
somewhat nasal tone which set every nerve in a boy's body twitching when
he heard it raised in reproof, "I really cannot congratulate you on your
appearance. I thought that the Sixth Form of Westminster was composed of
gentlemen, but it seems to me now as if it consisted of a number of
singularly disreputable-looking prize-fighters. What does all this
mean, Williams?" he asked, addressing the captain; "your face appears to
have met with better usage than some of the others."
"It means, sir," Williams said, "that as the party from fields were
coming back yesterday evening, they were attacked by the 'skies,'--I
mean by the roughs--and got terribly knocked about. When the news came
to us I was up College, and the fellows had just come back from the
water, so of course we all sallied out to rescue them."
"Did it not occur to you, Williams, that there is a body called the
police, whose duty it is to interfere in disgraceful uproars of this
sort?"
"If we had waited for the police, sir," Williams said, "half the School
would not have been fit to take their places in form again before the
end of the term."
"It does not appear to me," Dr. Litter said, "that a great many of them
are fit to take their places at present. I can scarcely see Norris's
eyes; and I suppose that boy is Barkley, as he sits in the place that he
usually occupies, otherwise, I should not have recognised him; and
Smart, Robertson, and Barker and Barret are nearly as bad. I suppose you
feel satisfied with yourselves, boys, and consider that this sort of
thing is creditable to you; to my mind it is simply disgraceful. There!
I don't want to hear any more at present; I suppose the whole School is
in the same state. Those of you who can see had better go back to School
and prepare your Demosthenes; those who cannot had best go back to their
boarding-houses, or up College, and let the doctor be sent for to see if
anything can be done for you."
The doctor had indeed already been sent for, for some seven or eight of
the younger boys had been so seriously knocked about and kicked that
they were unable to leave their beds. For the rest a doctor could do
nothing. Fights were not uncommon at Westminster in those days, but the
number of orders for beef-steaks which the nearest butcher had received
on the previous evening had fairly astonished him. Indeed, had it not
been for the prompt application of these to their faces, very few of the
party from the fields would have been able to find their way up School
unless they had been led by their comrades.
At Westminster there was an hour's school before breakfast, and when
nine o'clock struck, and the boys poured out, Dr. Litter and his
under-masters held council together.
"This is a disgraceful business!" Dr. Litter said, looking, as was his
wont, at some distant object far over the heads of the others.
There was a general murmur of assent.
"The boys do not seem to have been much to blame," Mr. Richards
suggested in the cheerful tone habitual to him. "From what I can hear it
seems to have been a planned thing; the people gathered round the gates
before they left the fields and attacked them without any provocation."
"There must have been some provocation somewhere, Mr. Richards, if not
yesterday, then the day before, or the day before that," Dr. Litter
said, twirling his eye-glass by the ribbon. "A whole host of people do
not gather to assault forty or fifty boys without provocation. This sort
of thing must not occur again. I do not see that I can punish one boy
without punishing the whole School; but, at any rate, for the next week
fields must be stopped. I shall write to the Commissioner of Police,
asking that when they again go to Vincent Square some policemen may be
put on duty, not of course to accompany them, but to interfere at once
if they see any signs of a repetition of this business. I shall request
that, should there be any fighting, those not belonging to the School
who commit an assault may be taken before a magistrate; my own boys I
can punish myself. Are any of the boys seriously injured, do you think?"
"I hope not, sir," Mr. Richards said; "there are three or four in my
house, and there are ten at Mr. Sargent's, and two at Carr's, who have
gone on the sick list. I sent for the doctor, and he may have seen them
by this time; they all seemed to have been knocked down and kicked."
"There are four of the juniors at College in the infirmary," Mr. Wire,
who was in special charge of the Queen's Scholars, put in. "I had not
heard about it last night, and was in ignorance of what had taken place
until the list of those who had gone into the infirmary was put into my
hands, and then I heard from Williams what had taken place."
"It is very unpleasant," Dr. Litter said, in a weary tone of voice--as
if boys were a problem far more difficult to be mastered than any that
the Greek authors afforded him--"that one cannot trust boys to keep out
of mischief for an hour. Of course with small boys this sort of thing is
to be expected; but that young fellows like Williams and the other
seniors, and the Sixth town boys, who are on the eve of going up to the
Universities, should so far forget themselves is very surprising."
"But even at the University, Doctor Litter," Mr. Richards said, with a
passing thought of his own experience, "town and gown rows take place."
"All the worse," Dr. Litter replied, "all the worse. Of course there are
wild young men at the Universities." Dr. Litter himself, it is scarcely
necessary to say, had never been wild, the study of the Greek particles
had absorbed all his thoughts. "Why," he continued, "young men should
condescend to take part in disgraceful affrays of this kind passes my
understanding. Mr. Wire, you will inform Williams that for the rest of
the week no boy is to go to fields."
So saying, he strode off in the direction of his own door, next to the
archway, for the conversation had taken place at the foot of the steps
leading into School from Little Dean's Yard. There was some grumbling
when the head-master's decision was known; but it was, nevertheless,
felt that it was a wise one, and that it was better to allow the
feelings to calm down before again going through Westminster between
Dean's Yard and the field, for not even the most daring would have cared
for a repetition of the struggle.
Several inquiries were made as to the lad who had brought the news of
the fight, and so enabled the reinforcements to arrive in time; and had
he been discovered a handsome subscription would have been got up to
reward his timely service, but no one knew anything about him.
The following week, when cricket was resumed, no molestation was
offered. The better part of the working-classes who inhabited the
neighbourhood were indeed strongly in favour of the "boys," and liked to
see their bright young faces as they passed home from their cricket;
the pluck too with which they had fought was highly appreciated, and so
strong a feeling was expressed against the attack made upon them, that
the rough element deemed it better to abstain from further interruption,
especially as there were three or four extra police put upon the beat at
the hours when the "boys" went to and from Vincent Square.
It was, however, some time before the "great fight" ceased to be a
subject of conversation among the boys. At five minutes to ten on the
morning when Dr. Litter had put a stop to fields, two of the younger
boys--who were as usual, just before school-time, standing in the
archway leading into Little Dean's Yard to warn the School of the
issuing out of the head-master--were talking of the fight of the evening
before; both had been present, having been fagging out at cricket for
their masters.
"I wonder which would lick, Norris or Barkley. What a splendid fight it
would be!"
"You will never see that, Fairlie, for they are cousins and great
friends. It would be a big fight, and I expect it would be a draw. I
know who I should shout for."
"Oh, of course, we should all be for Norris, he is such a jolly fellow;
there is no one in the School I would so readily fag for. Instead of
saying, 'Here, you fellow, come and pick up balls,' or, 'Take my bat up
to fields,' he says, 'I say, young Fairlie, I wish you would come and
pick up balls for a bit, and in a quarter of an hour you can call some
other Under School boy to take your place,' just as if it were a favour,
instead of his having the right to put one on if he pleased. I should
like to be his fag: and he never allows any bullying up at Richards'. I
wish we had him at Sargent's."
"Yes, and Barkley is quite a different sort of fellow. I don't know that
he is a bully, but somehow he seems to have a disagreeable way with him,
a cold, nasty, hard sort of way; he walks along as if he never noticed
the existence of an Under School boy, while Norris always has a pleasant
nod for a fellow."
"Here's Litter."
At this moment a door in the wall under the archway opened, and the
head-master appeared. As he came out the five or six small boys standing
round raised a tremendous shout of "Litter's coming." A shout so loud
that it was heard not only in College and the boarding-houses in Little
Dean's Yard, but at Carr's across by the archway, and even at
Sutcliffe's shop outside the Yard, where some of the boys were
purchasing sweets for consumption in school. A fag at the door of each
of the boarding-houses took up the cry, and the boys at once came
pouring out.
The Doctor, as if unconscious of the din raised round him, walked slowly
along half-way to the door of the School; here he was joined by the
other masters, and they stood chatting in a group for about two minutes,
giving ample time for the boys to go up School, though those from
Carr's, having much further to go, had to run for it, and not
unfrequently had to rush past the masters as the latter mounted the wide
stone steps leading up to the School.
The School was a great hall, which gave one the idea that it was almost
coeval with the abbey to which it was attached, although it was not
built until some hundreds of years later. The walls were massive, and of
great height, and were covered from top to bottom with the painted names
of old boys, some of which had been there, as was shown by the dates
under them, close upon a hundred years. The roof was supported on great
beams, and both in its proportions and style the School was a copy in
small of the great hall of Westminster.
At the furthermost end from the door was a semicircular alcove, known as
the "Shell," which gave its name to the form sitting there. On both
sides ran rows of benches and narrow desks, three deep, raised one above
the other. On the left hand on entering was the Under School, and,
standing on the floor in front of it, was the arm-chair of Mr. Wire.
Next came the monitor's desk, at which the captain and two monitors sat.
In an open drawer in front of the table were laid the rods, which were
not unfrequently called into requisition. Extending up to the end were
the seats of the Sixth. The "Upper Shell" occupied the alcove; the
"Under Shell" were next to them, on the further benches on the
right-hand side. Mr. Richards presided over the "Shell." Mr. Sargent
took the Upper and Under Fifth, who came next to them, and "Johnny," as
Mr. Johns was called, looked after the two Fourths, who occupied benches
on the right hand of the door.
By the time the masters entered the School all the boys were in their
places. The doors were at once shut, then the masters knelt on one knee
in a line, one behind the other, in order of seniority, and the Junior
Queen's Scholar whose turn it was knelt in front of them, and in a loud
tone read the Lord's Prayer in Latin. Then the masters proceeded to
their places, and school began, the names of all who came in late being
taken down to be punished with impositions.
So large and lofty was the hall, that the voices were lost in its
space, and the forms were able to work without disturbing each other any
more than if they had been in separate rooms. The Sixth only were heard
apart, retiring into the library with the Doctor. His seat, when in
school, was at a table in the centre of the hall, near the upper end.
Thus Westminster differed widely from the great modern schools, with
their separate class-rooms and lecture-rooms. Discipline was not very
strict. When a master was hearing one of the forms under him the other
was supposed to be preparing its next lessons, but a buzz of quiet talk
went on steadily. Occasionally, once or twice a week perhaps, a boy
would be seen to go up from one of the lower forms with a note in his
hand to the head-master; then there was an instant pause in the talking.
Dr. Litter would rise from his seat, and a monitor at once brought him a
rod. These instruments of punishment were about three feet six inches
long; they were formed of birch twigs, very tightly bound together, and
about the thickness of the handle of a bat; beyond this handle some ten
or twelve twigs extended for about eighteen inches. The Doctor seldom
made any remark beyond giving the order, "Hold out your hand."
The unfortunate to be punished held out his arm at a level with his
shoulder, back uppermost. Raising his arm so that the rod fell almost
straight behind his back, Dr. Litter would bring it down, stroke after
stroke, with a passionless and mechanical air, but with a sweeping force
which did its work thoroughly. Four cuts was the normal number, but if
it was the third time a boy had been sent up during the term he would
get six. But four sufficed to swell the back of the hand, and cover it
with narrow weals and bruises. It was of course a point of honour that
no sound should be uttered during punishment. When it was over the
Doctor would throw the broken rod scornfully upon the ground and return
to his seat. The Junior then carried it away and placed a fresh one upon
the desk.
The rods were treated with a sort of reverence, for no Junior Queen's
Scholar ever went up or down school for any purpose without first going
over to the monitor's table and lightly touching the rod as he passed.
Such was school at Westminster forty years since, and it has but little
changed to the present day.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II.
A COLD SWIM.
IT is winter. Christmas is close at hand, and promises to be a bitterly
cold one. The ice has formed smooth and black across the Serpentine, and
a number of people are walking along by its banks, looking forward to
some grand skating if the frost does but hold two days longer. The sky
is blue, and the sun shining brightly; the wind is fresh and keen; it is
just the day when people well-clad, well-fed, and in strong health, feel
their blood dancing more freely than usual through their veins, and
experience an unusual exhilaration of spirits. Merry laughter often
rises from the groups on the bank, and the air rings with the sharp
sound made by pieces of ice sent skimming by mischievous boys over the
glassy surface, to the disgust of skaters, who foresee future falls as
the result of these fragments should a slight thaw freeze them to the
surface.
Among those walking by the edge of the ice were Frank Norris and Fred
Barkley; with them was a bright-faced girl of some fourteen years old.
Alice Hardy was cousin to both the young fellows, and was a ward of
their uncle, Captain Bayley, an old and very wealthy retired officer of
the East India Company's Service. His fortune had not been acquired in
India, but had descended to him from his father, of whom he had been the
youngest son. His elder brothers had died off one by one, all unmarried
or childless, and soon after he obtained his commission he was recalled
home to take his place as the next heir to his father's estates; then he
had married.
Soon after he succeeded to the property his wife died, leaving him a
little girl, who was called Ella after her. Captain Bayley was hot and
passionate. His daughter grew up fiery and proud. Her father was
passionately fond of her; but just when she reached the age of twenty,
and had taken her place as one of the leading belles of Worcestershire,
she disappeared suddenly from the circle of her acquaintances. What had
happened no one ever knew. That there had been some terrible quarrel was
certain. It was understood that Captain Bayley wished no questions to be
asked. Her disappearance was a nine days' wonder in Worcestershire. Some
said she had turned Roman Catholic and gone into a convent; others that
she must have eloped, although with whom no one could guess. But at last
the subject died out, until two years later Captain Bayley and his
household appeared in mourning, and it was briefly announced that his
daughter was dead.
Captain Bayley went about as before, peppery, kind-hearted, perhaps a
little harder and more cynical than before, but a very popular personage
in Worcestershire. Those who knew him best thought him the most altered,
and said that although he appeared to bear the blow lightly he felt
deeply at heart the death of his daughter. His nearest heirs now were
his two nephews, Frank Norris and Barkley, sons of his married sisters.
Alice Hardy bore no relation to him. For some years speculation had
been rife as to which of his two nephews he would select as his heir.
Two years before this story begins Alice Hardy's father and mother had
both died of typhoid fever, leaving Captain Bayley as guardian to their
daughter. Somewhat to the surprise of his friends, the old officer not
only accepted the trust, but had Alice installed at his house, there to
be educated by a governess instead of being sent to school. But although
in a short time she came to be regarded as the daughter of the house, no
one thought that Captain Bayley would make her his heiress, as she had
inherited a considerable fortune from her father; and the two lads at
Westminster were still regarded as rivals for the heirship.
Captain Bayley had never been on good terms with either of his
brothers-in-law; both had been merchants in the city, and the old
officer considered that his sisters had made mesalliances in marrying
them. Frank's father and mother had died within a few months of each
other, when he was about twelve years old; Captain Bayley's house had
since been his home. Fred was often invited to stay with his uncle down
in Worcestershire, and his London house in Eaton Square was always open
to him. Frank had never counted on the probability of his uncle leaving
him any money. Certainly he never for a moment built castles in the air
founded upon the chance of the inheritance. His father had been an
easy-going and somewhat careless man, and would sometimes laugh with the
boy in speaking of his future and predicting what he would do if he were
come into old Bayley's estates. None of the Captain's intimates
could--had they been asked--have declared a preference for the chances
of either lad. Fred was certainly the cleverest. He had gone into
college head of his year, and would have been Captain, had not one of
those of the year before him, who had got into College under age,
elected to stay a year longer at school, and therefore by right became
Captain, while Fred had to be content with the honours of head monitor.
Frank, on the other hand, had failed to get into College at all, and had
remained a town boy.
Although it could not be said of Fred that in any open way he laid
himself out to gain his uncle's favour, he was yet decidedly more
attentive than was Frank, and would give up any other engagement he
might have if Captain Bayley invited him to stay the Saturday and Sunday
in Eaton Square, while Frank went carelessly his own way. And while
there was nothing in the smallest degree servile in Fred's manner--for
this indeed Captain Bayley would have instantly noticed and
resented--there was just that slight deference which a young fellow
should exhibit in conversation with an elder, while Frank, on the other
hand, carelessly expressed his own opinion and ideas, which often
differed very widely from those of the old officer.
Captain Bayley's own manner evinced no shade of partiality for one
nephew over the other; and although Alice had a sort of faint suspicion
that Frank, who was certainly her own favourite, was also that of her
uncle, she could have given no reason for her belief.
In person the cousins were remarkably dissimilar. Frank was two inches
the tallest, and had a still greater advantage in width. It was clear
that he would grow into a big man, but his figure was at present loose
and unformed; he had dark brown hair, with a slight wave, and would
hardly have been called good-looking, were it not for his open, fearless
expression and merry smile.
Fred's figure, although less strongly built, was far more formed, and it
was probable that years would effect but little change in it. There was
a sinew and wire in his frame which would have told an athlete of great
latent strength in the slight figure. His hair was light, his features
clear and sharply cut, and the face a decidedly intellectual one. His
manner was somewhat cold and restrained, but pleasant and courteous to
men older than himself; both young fellows carried themselves well, with
a certain ease of bearing, and that nameless air of command which
distinguish most young men who have passed through the upper forms of a
great public school.
Both lads had their circle of friends and admirers at school, but
Frank's was by far the largest. He was indeed universally popular, which
was far from being the case with his cousin. Upon the other hand, while
Frank seemed to be a sort of common property of the School, it was
somehow esteemed by those in Barkley's set a special distinction to be
admitted to his friendship.
But the party of three young people have been left long enough walking
by the edge of the Serpentine. Presently they saw a knot of people
gathered ahead; the number increased as others ran up.
"What's up, I wonder?" Frank said. "Look out there on the ice, Alice.
You see that hole; there is something moving--there's a dog's head, I
declare. Poor brute! it has run out after a stick, I suppose, and the
ice has given under it."
"Poor little thing!" Alice exclaimed pitifully, "can't it get out? Do
you think it will be drowned, Frank? Can nothing be done for it?"
"The best thing you can do, Alice," Fred replied, as Frank stood looking
at the dog, who tried several times, but in vain, to scramble out, the
ice each time breaking with its weight, "will be to turn and walk away;
there is no use standing here harrowing your feelings by watching that
poor little brute drown."
"Can nothing be done, Frank?" Alice again asked, paying no heed to
Fred's suggestion.
"That is just what I am thinking," Frank replied. "You stop here, Alice,
with Fred. I will go on and see what they are doing."
"Can't I go with you, Frank?"
"You had better stop here," Frank replied; "the crowd is getting thick
there, and they are a roughish lot. Besides, you will not be able to see
over their heads, and can do no good; so just do as I bid you."
The girl remained obediently with her cousin Fred, while Frank went off
at a run towards the group.
"Frank orders you about just as if you were his fag," Fred said, with a
smile which had in it something of a sneer.
"I don't mind," the girl said staunchly, "it's Frank's way, and I like
it;--at any rate one always knows what Frank means, and he always means
well."
"That is as much as to say, Alice, that you don't always understand what
I mean, and that I don't always mean well," Fred Barkley said in a quiet
tone, but with a little flush of anger in his usually somewhat pale
cheeks.
"No, I don't know that I mean that," Alice said carelessly; "but I do
not always understand what you mean, though I always understand what you
say."
"I should have thought that was the same thing," Fred replied.
"Should you?" Alice rejoined. "Well I shouldn't, that's all."
As Frank Norris approached the group he began to unbutton his collar and
waistcoat.
"It will be a beastly cold swim," he grumbled to himself, "but I can't
see the poor little brute drowned, and drowned he certainly will be if
no one goes in for him. It's no distance to swim, and I should think one
could wade to within twenty yards of him; but it certainly will be
horribly cold." And he gave a shiver of anticipation as he looked at the
smooth frozen surface.
With some little difficulty Frank pushed his way through to the centre
of the group by the water's side. A little girl, poorly dressed, was
standing crying bitterly; a cripple boy in a box upon wheels was trying
to pacify her, while another who had taken off his coat and waistcoat,
and laid them in the lap of the cripple, was unlacing his boots.
"Are you going in, young un?" Frank said, as he joined them.
"Yes, sir; I am going in for Flossy. She belongs to this little girl,
who is one of our neighbours."
"Can you swim well?" Frank asked, "for the water will be bitterly cold."
"Yes," the boy answered confidently, "I goes regularly for a swim above
Vauxhall Bridge in the summer, and keeps on until the water gets too
cold. I can do that fast enough. I suppose the ice will break right
enough," and he looked up inquiringly at Frank.
"Yes, it will break with your weight easily enough; you will have to
raise yourself a little so as to break it before you. You will have to
put some weight on, for it is nearly half an inch thick; I expect there
is a thin place where the dog has fallen in--a spring underneath, most
likely, so a mere skin has formed.
"Look here, young un, I was going in if you hadn't. I shall get my boots
ready to kick off now, so don't you be frightened if you get numbed with
the cold, or a touch of cramp; just sing out and I will be with you in a
minute."
The cripple looked with pleasure up into Frank's face.
"It is very good of you, sir, for you don't know the dog as Evan does.
Ah! I know your face, sir," he broke off, "I saw you in the fight down
by our place at Westminster, when Evan ran up and fetched some more of
your chaps--and just in time they were too."
"Oh! was it your brother who brought that news?" Frank said quickly;
"then I owe him one, and if I go in to fetch him out we shall be only
quits."
Evan had by this time entered the water, breaking the ice before him as
he went.
"My eye, ain't it cold!" he said, half-turning round, "seems to nip
one's legs up regular. All right, Flossy," he shouted to the dog, as he
continued his way out, in answer to a pitiful whine of the struggling
animal.
[Illustration: THE RESCUE FROM THE SERPENTINE.]
For the first few paces Evan's progress was easy enough; but when he got
so deep that he could no longer break the ice with his foot his
difficulties began, and it was only by flinging himself down upon it
that he was able to break it. A few yards further on the water was up
to his chin. He was now breaking the ice by trying to climb upon it.
Frank was watching him closely, and noticed that he no longer proceeded
about his work deliberately, but with a hurried and jerky action, as if
he felt his strength failing him. Frank pulled off his coat and
waistcoat, and handed them to the cripple, kicked off his boots, and
stood in readiness to plunge in.
The crowd had at first cheered the lad as he made his way from the
shore; some still uttered shouts of encouragement, others saw that he
was getting exhausted, and called to him to return. Suddenly the boy
seemed to lose his power altogether, held on to the edge of the ice, and
cast a despairing look towards the shore. Then gradually his head
disappeared under the water; but Frank was already half-way towards him.
A few strides had taken him through the shallow water, and he swam with
vigorous strokes through the floating fragments to the end of the line
of broken water; then he too disappeared for a moment. A dead silence
reigned through the crowd; but when two heads appeared above the water
together, a ringing cheer broke out. Carrying his senseless companion,
Frank swam back to shore.
"Take off his wet clothes," he said, as he handed his burden to some of
the men. "Wrap him up in my coat and his own, and then run with him up
to the Humane Society's House, they will bring him round in no time; it
is cold, not drowning."
Then he looked again across the water. The little dog was swimming
feebly now, its nose scarcely above the surface. It had given a
plaintive cry of despair as it saw those who had approached so near turn
back, for there were but some five yards between the spot where the
boy's strength had failed and the circle which it had broken in its
efforts to climb out.
"I can't be colder than I am," Frank said to himself, "so here goes."
Accordingly he again dashed into the water and swam to the end of the
narrow passage; a few vigorous strokes broke the intervening barrier of
ice. He seized the little dog, put it on the ice, and with a push sent
it sliding towards the shore, and then turned and swam back again.
It was only just where the dog had fallen in that the ice was too weak
to bear its weight, and, after lying for two or three minutes utterly
exhausted, it scrambled to its feet and made its way to the bank, where
it was soon wrapped in the apron of its delighted mistress.
Frank, on reaching the shore, was scarcely able to stand, so benumbed
were his legs by the cold. His cousins had made their way through the
crowd to the spot.
"O Frank," Alice exclaimed, "what a mad thing for you to do. Oh! I am so
pleased you did it--but oh, you do look cold! What will you do?"
"I am all right, Alice," Frank said, as cheerfully as his chattering
teeth would allow him to speak. "You go home with Fred; I shall get a
hot bath and have my clothes dried at the receiving-house, and shall be
as right as a trivet in half an hour. There, good-bye!"
Frank walked stiffly at first, but was presently able to break into a
run, which he kept up until he reached the establishment of the Royal
Humane Society. His first question, as he entered, was for the boy.
"He will do, sir," the attendant answered, "we popped him at once into
a hot bath we had ready, and he has opened his eyes, and is able to
speak; we have just got him into bed between warm blankets, and now it's
your turn."
In another minute Frank was in the bath from which the boy had just been
taken, for there was no time to prepare another. For the first minute or
two he felt an intense pain as the blood flowed back into his chilled
limbs, then a delightful sensation of warmth and comfort stole over him;
a glass of hot brandy and water completed his cure, and a few minutes
later he felt that he was fast going off to sleep in the warm blankets
between which he was laid.
Before the crowd whom the incident on the Serpentine had gathered broke
up, one or two of those present went among the rest and collected a
subscription for the lad who had gone in after the dog. Nearly two
pounds were collected in silver and coppers, and handed over to the
cripple to give to his brother. Fred Barkley dropped in five shillings,
and Alice Hardy the same sum. Then after walking to the receiving-house,
and hearing that Frank and the lad had both recovered from the effects
of the cold, and would probably be all right after a few hours' sleep,
they returned home, Alice in a high state of excitement over the
adventure which she had witnessed, Fred silent and gloomy.
He accompanied Alice to Eaton Square, and was present when she related
to her uncle the story of the lad going in to rescue the dog, and of
Frank going in to rescue the boy, and of his afterwards returning to set
free the dog. Upon the way home he had appeared to Alice to take the
matter exceedingly quietly, but he now, somewhat to her surprise,
appeared almost as enthusiastic as herself, and spoke in terms of high
admiration of Frank's conduct. Captain Bayley, as was usually the case
with him, took a view of the matter entirely opposed to that of the
speakers.
"Stuff and nonsense!" he said. "You call that a gallant action? I call
it a foolish boy's trick. What right has Frank to risk getting rheumatic
fever, and being laid up as a cripple for life, merely to save a dog?"
"But he went in to save a boy, uncle," Alice said indignantly.
"Pooh, pooh!" the old officer exclaimed, "the boy would never have gone
in if he hadn't encouraged him. That makes the case all the worse. Frank
not only risking catching rheumatism himself, but he risked the life of
that boy by encouraging him to do such a foolish action. It was a
hair-brained business altogether, sir; and I am glad you had the wisdom,
Fred, to keep out of it. The idea of two lives being risked to save that
of a wretched cur is too absurd; if you had offered the girl who owned
it five shillings to buy another it would have been more sensible."
"I don't believe you mean what you say a bit, Uncle Harry," Alice
exclaimed indignantly. "I believe if you had been there, and had heard
that poor little dog's cries as we did, you would have gone in yourself.
I am sure I would if I had been a man."
"I always observe, my dear," Captain Bayley said sarcastically, "that
women would do wonderful things if they had only been born men. Nature
appears to be always making mistakes by putting the dauntless and heroic
spirits into female bodies, and _vice versa_."
"I don't like you when you talk like that, Uncle Harry--that is, I
shouldn't like you if I thought you meant it; but you only talk so out
of contradiction. If I had said I thought Frank was very foolish for
having gone into the water, you would have taken the opposite side
directly."
"You are an impudent puss, Miss Alice," her uncle retorted, "and I shall
have to tell Miss Lancaster that unless she can keep you in better order
I shall have to send you to school. You appear to have been born without
the bump of veneration."
"I would venerate you ever so much, Uncle Harry," the girl replied,
laughing, "if you would always be good and reasonable; but I cannot
venerate you when you are contrary and disagreeable, and say things you
don't mean."
As Fred Barkley walked home, he wondered again and again to himself
whether Captain Bayley had meant what he said, and whether this act of
Frank's would raise him in his opinion or the contrary; but he flattered
himself that, at any rate, no harm had been done, for his own advocacy
of his cousin could not but have placed him in the most favourable
light.
Fred Barkley was shrewd, but his power of reading character was, as yet,
by no means perfect, and his uncle's changing moods baffled the power of
analysis. He would not have been pleased had he known that at that very
moment the old officer was walking up and down his library, muttering to
himself, "I would give a good deal if there were a glass window at that
boy Fred's heart, that I could see what it is really made of. His head
is strong enough; nature has given him a fair share of brains, but,
unless I am greatly mistaken, there is a very grievous deficiency in his
allowance of heart.
"I don't believe the boy ever spoke spontaneously from the time he
learned to talk, but that every word he says is weighed before it passes
through his lips, and its effect calculated; whereas Frank never thinks
at all, but just blurts out the words which come to hand. It is curious
how much more Alice takes to him than to Fred, for he bullies her and
orders her about as if she were one of his fags, while Fred is as
courteous and polite to her as if she were a young Countess. I suppose
it is instinct, for children's opinions about people are seldom far
wrong. I thought when I brought Alice here that she would help me to
settle the problem."
Frank and Evan Holl woke at about the same time, after sleeping for some
hours; their clothes had been dried for them, and they at once began to
dress.
"How do you feel now, young un?" was Frank's first inquiry as they sat
up in their beds.
"I dunno how I feels," Evan replied. "I hardly knows where I am, or how
I got here, though I do seem to remember something about this 'ere place
too. Oh yes!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I was trying to fetch out poor
little Flossy, and the ice would not break, and I got colder and colder,
and then I don't seem to remember any more except somehow that I was
here with people standing round me, and I swallowed something hot and
went off to sleep. Ah yes! you were the gentleman as said you would come
in after me if I sang out."
"And I did come in," Frank said smilingly, "and only just in time I was,
for you did not sing out, but went right down without a word. It was
lucky you did not get under the ice."
"And Flossy," the boy said suddenly, "did she go down too?"
"No," Frank answered, "I went in again and got her out, after I had
brought you back to shore."
"Well, you are a brick!" the boy said, "a regular downright un, and no
mistake. I wonder how Harry got back; it would be a job for him to wheel
hisself all the way back to Westminster."
"Oh, I expect he got some one to help him," Frank said; "and the little
girl would be able to help shove him along."
"Yes, she would," Evan replied, "she can shove him by herself along a
pavement, and I expect that he and she atween them would be able to get
along. Lor! how them things of yours have shrunk, to be sure."
"They have, a bit," Frank said, looking down at his trousers, which were
half-way up to his knees; "but it don't matter much, it's getting dark
now, and I can take a cab when I get out of the Park. Your clothes don't
seem to have suffered so much, they seem plenty large enough for you
now."
"Yes," Evan said, with a satisfied air, "and a good job too; mother
always will have my clothes so big, cos of my growing. She always seems
to think one will grow sudden into a man afore one's things wear out."
Frank and the lad walked together as far as Albert Gate; here they
separated, Frank taking a cab home, while Evan, whistling a popular air
in a high key, took his way to Westminster. On arriving home he was
greeted with enthusiasm by Harry, but Mrs. Holl was not inclined to view
his adventure favourably.
"It's all very well to care for dogs, Evan, and I ain't a-saying as
Carrie Hill's dog ain't a nice little critter; but when it comes to
getting into the freezing water arter it, I don't hold to it no way.
Then you might have gone and got drowned--and you would have got drowned
too, Harry tells me, if that young gent hadn't been and gone after you;
and then this blessed minute I should have been breaking my heart about
you, and you down underneath the ice in the bottom of the Serpentine.
There ain't no reason in it, my boy. Harry here thinks different about
it, and will have it that I ought to be proud of yer; but he ain't a
mother, and so can't understand a mother's feelings--and your clothes
pretty nigh spoilt too, I'll be bound."
"Well, mother, if they are," Harry said cheerfully, "Evan can buy some
more. Here, Evan; here are thirty-eight shillings and ninepence
halfpenny, and it's all your own."
"Crikey!" Evan gasped, looking in astonishment at the pile of money in
Harry's lap. "Why, where did all that 'ere money come from?"
"That was collected in the crowd, Evan, after you were carried away, and
they gave it to me to give to you. I did not quite like your taking
money for doing such a thing, but of course as it was given for you I
had nothing to say to it."
Evan burst into a wild dance expressive of delight. He had none of his
brother's scruples in respect to the money.
"My eye!" he exclaimed at last, "thirty-eight bob and some coppers to do
just as I likes with. I am a rich man, I am; I shall have to get some
'igh collars and come the swell. I suppose it won't run to a carriage
and pair, mother, or to a welvet gownd for you,--that would be
splendatious. Just fancy, mother, a gownd all over welvet, and just the
same colour as the sodgers' coats. My eye! won't that be grand?"
"And a nice sight I should look in it," Mrs. Holl said, laughing at the
thought of herself in scarlet robes. "When dad comes home we will talk
over with him what's the best way of laying out this money. It's yours
to do as you likes with, but I ain't a-going to have it fooled away, so
don't you make any mistake about that."
[Illustration]
CHAPTER III.
A CRIPPLE BOY.
JOHN HOLL returned from work a few minutes after Evan came in. John Holl
was a dustman. A short, broadly-built man, with his shoulders bowed
somewhat from carrying heavy baskets up area steps. His looks were
homely, and his attire far from clean; but John was a good husband and
father, and the great proportion of the many twopences he daily received
as douceurs for discharging his duties were brought home to his wife, as
was all the weekly money, instead of being exchanged for liquor at the
public-house.
Sarah Holl added to the family income by going out charring. She was a
big woman, with a rough voice, and slipshod in walk; her hands were red
and hard from much scrubbing and polishing, and she was considered
generally by the servants in the establishments at which she worked to
be a low person. But Sarah's heart was in the right place; her children
loved her, and her husband regarded her as a treasure.
It was not until John Holl had changed his dirt-stained clothes, and had
freshened himself up with a copious wash, had put on a pair of list
slippers of Sarah's manufacture in place of his heavy boots, and had
seated himself by the fire with his long pipe alight, while Sarah
bustled about getting the tea, that he was informed of the important
events which had taken place; for John, like many more distinguished
men, had his idiosyncrasies, and one of these was that he hated to be,
as he called it, "hustled," before he had tidied up. John was not quick
of comprehension, and could not give due weight to what was said to him
while engaged in the important work of changing; therefore all pieces of
family news were reserved until he had taken his seat and his pipe was
fully alight. Then Mrs. Holl began--
"What do you think, John, Evan 'as been a-doing to-day?"
John gave a grunt, to signify that he would prefer hearing the facts to
wasting his brain-power in random guesses.
"Why, he has been in the Serpentine, and was nigh drowned, and had to be
taken to the 'Mane Society and put into a hot bath, and all his clothes
shrunk that much as you never seed."
"I thought the ice weren't strong enough to bear," John said, taking his
pipe from his mouth; "one of my mates tells me as he heard a chap going
along with skates say as it weren't strong enough on the Serpentine to
hold a cat."
"No more it ain't, John; but Carrie Hill's little dog run on and fell
through, and nothing would do but that Evan must go out and risk his
life to fetch it out. And a nice business he made of it; when he got
close out to the dog down he went hisself, and would have been drowned
as sure as fate if a young gent as was a-standing there hadn't swam out
and brought him in. And I think you ought to speak to him, John, for
such venturesome ways; he don't mind my speaking no more than the wind
a-blowing."
John Holl smoked his pipe in silence for some time, looking solemnly
into the fire; the number of facts and ideas presented suddenly to him
were too great to be instantly taken in and grappled with.
"And how do you feel now, Evan?" he said at last; "cold right through
the bones?"
"No, father; I am as warm as need be; and what do you think? I have got
thirty-eight bob and some coppers which they 'scribed for me."
"Did they, now?" John Holl said. Then after taking in this new fact, and
turning it over in different lights, he said to his wife, "Well, Sarah,
it seems to me that if the people who saw our Evan go into the water
subscribed well-nigh upon two pounds for the boy, they must have thought
that what he did warn't a thing for him to be jawed for, but a brave,
good-hearted sort of action; and I ain't no manner of doubt, Sarah, that
that's just what you think it yerself, only you are a bit scared over
the thought that he might have been drowned, which is natural and
woman-like. It seems to me as Evan has done a wery honourable kind o'
action. I know as I should have liked to have done it myself, though I
holds that a man can't have too much of hot water and plenty of soap in
it, cold water allus giving me the shivers, and being no good for
getting out dirt--not where its ground in pretty thick. I suppose it's
cos of this that I didn't larn to swim. Evan, my boy, your father feels
proud of yer, and so does your mother--as proud as a peacock--though she
don't think it's right to say so."
Whereupon Mrs. Holl, finding to her great inward satisfaction that the
paternal sanction and approval had been given to Evan's adventure, felt
no longer constrained to keep up a semblance of disapproval, but
embraced him with great heartiness, and then wiped her eyes with the
corner of her apron. Then came the great point of the disposal of Evan's
fortune. His first proposal was to hand it over to his father as a
contribution towards the general expenses, but this John Holl
peremptorily refused.
"It's your money, boy, to do as you like with; it's earned in a
honourable way, and a way to be proud of. You are to do with it just
what you likes; it were best not to spend it foolish, but if you are
disposed to spend it foolish, you do so."
"There are such lots of things I should like to buy," Evan said. "I
should like to buy mother a new Sunday bonnet, and I should like to get
you a pound of bacca; and Winnie wants a new pair of boots and
stockings, and there's lots of things I should like to get for Harry,
and some warm gloves for Sue, and--and no end of things."
"Two pounds," John Holl said, "is a nice little lump of money, Evan; but
when you gets as old as I am you will know as two pounds don't go wery
far. My advice to you is this, whatever you get yer sure a while
afterwards to want something else, and to wish as you had bought that
instead; that's human nature, and it's the same with men, women, and
boys--at least that's my 'sperience, and mother will tell you the same.
My advice is, give that money to mother to keep for you, say for a
month. Well then, every day you can settle fresh what you mean to buy,
and that will be most as good as buying it; perhaps towards the end of
the month you will have settled yer mind on to something which really
seems to you better than all the others: that's my advice."
"And capital good advice too, father," Harry said.
And thus the approval of the two authorities of the family having been
obtained, the matter was considered as settled.
"And who was the young gent as went in and fetched you out, Evan?" John
Holl asked, when the important business of tea was concluded, and he
again settled himself to his pipe. "He must have been a good sort; I
should like to shake hands with that chap."
"He told me as his name were Frank Norris," Evan replied; "he is one of
the scholars we see going along to Vincent Square; I knew him again
directly. He was one of those chaps as fought so well the day they got
attacked going back to the School. A fine-looking chap he is too, with a
pleasant face, and a nice sort of way about him. No nonsense, you know;
he talked just pleasant and nice, as Harry might talk to me, just as if
he was a sort of pal, and not a swell no-how."
"I should like to shake hands with him," John Holl repeated; "he saved
your life, that's sure enough"--for by this time Harry had related the
full details of the affair. "I think, Sarah, as it would be only right
and proper, come Sunday, for you and I to go round to that young
fellow's house and tell him how we feels about it. If it had been a chap
of our own station in life I suppose there ain't nothing we wouldn't do
for him, if we saw our way to it; and though I don't see as it's likely
as we can do nothing for this young fellow, the least as we can do is to
go and tell him what we thinks about it. Did he tell you where he lived,
Evan?"
"No, father. He didn't say where he lived; but he writ down in a
pocket-book my name and where we lived, and said as how he would look in
one of these days and see that I was none the worse for my ducking."
"Well, I hopes as how he will," John said, "but if he don't come soon,
we must find him out. I expect his name or his father's name would be
down in a 'Rectory, and the name ain't so common a one as there would be
likely to be a great many on them living about here; but if there was
fifty I would call on them all till I found the right one. I shan't be
easy in my mind, not till I have shaken that young chap's hand and told
him what I thinks on it. And I am sure your mother feels the same as I
do. And now, Harry, take out that fiddle of yours and let's have a tune;
my pipe allus seems to draw better and sweeter while you are playing."
One of the children--there were eight in all in the room--fetched
Harry's fiddle from the wall. It was a cheap, common instrument, but
even far better judges of music than the Holls would have been able to
discern, in spite of its cracked and harsh tone, that the lad who was
playing it had a genius for music. It is true that the airs which he was
playing, those which the street boys of the day whistled as they walked
by, were not of a nature to display his powers. Harry could play other
and very different kinds of music; for whenever Evan earned a sixpence
by holding a horse, or doing any other odd job, a penny or twopence were
sure to go in the purchase of a sheet of music for Harry at the cheap
bookstalls. Harry had learned the notes from a secondhand book of
instructions which John Holl had bought for him one Saturday night, when
the weather had been particularly hot, and people in their desire to
get their dust-bins emptied were more liberal than usual. But of an
evening, when John was at home, Harry always played popular airs, as his
father and family were unable to appreciate the deeper and better music.
This he reserved for the time when the children were at school, and
mother was either charring or was at the wash-tub.
Sarah used to wonder silently at the sounds which seemed to her to have
no particular air, such as she could beat time to with her foot as she
worked; but in her heart she appreciated them; they made her feel as if
she was in church, and sometimes she would draw her apron across her
eyes, wondering all the time what there was in the tones of the fiddle
which should make her cry.
Three or four days later, when Harry, as usual, was playing on his
violin, and Mrs. Holl was washing, there was a knock at the door.
"Drat it!" Mrs. Holl muttered, "who's a-coming bothering now, just when
I am busy?"
"If no one is to come except when you are not busy," Harry laughed, as
Mrs. Holl moved towards the door, wiping the lather from her arms and
hands, "we shan't have many visitors, for as far as I can see you are
always busy."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, as Mrs. Holl opened the door, and he saw who was
standing without, "it's the gentleman who got Evan out of the water."
"Mrs. Holl?" Frank asked interrogatively, and then, catching sight of
Harry, he at once walked across to him and shook him by the hand.
"I hope I am not intruding, Mrs. Holl, but I promised your son to look
in and see how he was; and as I had to come down to the School to-day
for a book I wanted for my holiday task, I thought it would be a good
opportunity to fulfil my promise."
"It is no intrusion, sir, and I am sure I am heartily glad to see yer,
and thank ye for coming," Mrs. Holl said, as she dusted an already
spotless chair and placed it for her visitor. "My John does nothing
every evening but talk of how he wishes he could see you, to tell you
how beholden he and me feels to you for having brought our Evan to land
just as he was being drowned."
"No thanks are required indeed, Mrs. Holl," Frank said cheerfully, "it
was a sort of partnership affair. You see I was going in after the dog,
only Evan, who was a sort of friend of the family, had first claim; so
we agreed that he should try first and do all the hard work of breaking
the ice, and then, if the cold was too much for him, I was to go out and
fetch him in and finish the job myself. So you see it was a mutual
arrangement, and no particular thanks due to any one. But your son is a
plucky young fellow, Mrs. Holl, and he behaved most gallantly. I find
too, from what your son here tells me, that I owe him one for having
fetched help up from the School when we were getting the worst of it
just opposite your house here. Well, in the first place, how is he? None
the worse, I hope, for the cold."
"Not at all, sir. He is out to-day with a friend of ours as 'as got a
barrow, and lives in the next street, but who is that hoarse with the
cold that he can't speak out of a whisper; so he offered Evan sixpence
to go along with him to do the shouting, and a nice shouting he will
make; his voice goes through and through my head when he is only
a-talking with his brothers and sisters here, and if anything can bring
them to the windows it will be his voice. He offered to come round here
with the barrow afore they started off this morning, but says I, 'No,
Evan; I have a good name in the street, I hope, and don't wish to be
dighted as a nuisance to the neighbourhood, nor to have my neighbours
accusing me of a-being the cause of fits in their children.'"
"I don't suppose that it would be as bad as that, Mrs. Holl," Frank
said, laughing. "However, if his voice is as loud and clear as that, it
is evident that he is not much the worse for his cold bath. I came round
partly to see him, partly to know if I could do anything for him; he
seems a sharp lad, and I am sure he is as honest as he is plucky. As a
beginning, my uncle says he could come into the house as a sort of
errand-boy, and to help the footman, until he can hear of some better
position for him among his friends."
"I am sure you are very good, sir," Mrs. Holl said gratefully; "I will
mention it to his father, and he---- But I doubt whether Evan's steady
enough for a place yet, he is allus getting into mischief; there never
was such a boy for scrapes; if all my eight were like him I should go
clean mad afore the week was out. When he is in the house, as long as he
is talking or singing I can go on with my work, but the moment that he
is quiet I have to drop what I am a-doing on and look arter him, for he
is sure to be up to some mischief or other."
"No, no, mother," Harry put in, laughing; "you are giving Evan a worse
character than he deserves. He is up to fun, as is only natural with one
who has got the free use of his limbs, but he never does any real harm."
"No, I don't say that he does real harm, 'Arry," Mrs. Holl replied,
"but I do say as at present he is too full of boyish tricks to be of any
good in a place, and we should be a-having him back here a week arter he
went, and that would be a nice show of gratitude to this gentleman for
his kindness."
"I don't suppose he is as bad as you make out, Mrs. Holl; and no doubt
he would tame down after a time, just as other boys do. Perhaps a place
in a warehouse would be more suitable for him at first.
"And it was you who were playing as I came in," he went on, noticing the
violin; "I was wondering who was playing so well. How jolly it must be
to play! I wish I could, but I should never have patience to learn. Who
taught you?"
"I picked it up myself, sir," Harry replied, "from a book father bought
me. You see I have plenty of time on my hands; I don't get out much,
except just along the street, for I can't very well get across crossings
by myself. The wheels go well enough on a level, but I cannot push them
up a curb-stone. But what with reading and fiddling the days pass
quickly enough, especially when mother is at home; she is out two or
three days a week, and then the time seems rather long."
"I should think so," Frank said; "I should go mad if I were laid up
entirely. I am awfully sorry for you. If you are fond of books I shall
be glad to let you have some; I have got no end of them, and there they
stand on my shelf unopened from year's end to year's end. What sort of
books do you like best? Sea stories, or Indians, or what?"
"I should like any story-books, sir," Harry replied, his eyes
brightening up with pleasure; "I have read a few which father has
picked up for me at the bookstalls, and I have gone through and through
them until I could almost say them by heart. And then tales of travel
and history,--oh, I love history! to read what people did hundreds of
years ago, and how nations grew up step by step, just like children, it
is splendid!"
"I am afraid," Frank said, with a laugh, "that I don't care so much for
history as you do. Names are hard enough to remember, but dates are
awful; I would rather do the toughest bit of construing than have a page
of Greek history to get up. Well, I will certainly look you up some
books on history and some travels, and will send you some of Marryat's
stories. I suppose you do not care for schoolbooks; I have got a
barrow-load that I shall never want again."
"Oh yes, sir," Harry said eagerly, "I think I should like those best of
all. Have you a Virgil, sir? I do like Virgil, and all that story about
the siege of Troy. I only had it for a fortnight. Father bought it for
me, and then one of the little ones managed somehow to take it out and
lose it; she ran out with it for a bit of fun, and we suppose sat down
on a doorstep and forgot it."
"But, bless me," Frank exclaimed, "you don't mean to say that you read
Virgil in Latin! You are a rum fellow. How on earth did you learn it?"
"I have taught myself, sir," Harry said. "Father is awfully good, and
often picks up books for me at old bookstalls. Of course sometimes he
gets things I can't make out. But he got twelve once for a shilling, and
there was a Latin Grammar and Dictionary among them; and when I had
learned the Grammar, it was very easy with the Dictionary to make out
the sense of some of the Latin books. But of course I often come across
things that I don't understand. I think sometimes if some one would
explain them to me once or twice, so that I could really understand how
the rules in the Grammar are applied, I could get on faster."
"Well, you are a rum fellow!" Frank exclaimed again. "I wish I liked
learning as you do, for though I am in the Sixth at Westminster, I own
that I look upon the classics as a nuisance. Well, now, look here; I
have got an hour at present with nothing special to do, so if you like
we will have a go at it together. What have you got here?" and he walked
across to a shelf on which were a number of books. "Oh! here is a Cæsar;
suppose we take that; it's easy enough generally, but there are some
stiffish bits now and then. Let's start off from the beginning, and
perhaps I may be able to make things clear for you a bit."
In spite of Mrs. Holl's protestations that Harry ought not to trouble
the gentleman, the two lads were soon deep in their Cæsar. Frank found,
to his surprise, that the cripple boy had a wonderful knack of grasping
the sense of passages, but that never having been regularly taught to
construe, he was unable to apply the rules of grammar which he had
learned. Frank taught him how to do this, how to take a sentence to
pieces, how to parse it word by word, and to see how each word depended
upon the others, so that even if absolutely in ignorance of the meaning
of any one word in a sentence, he could nevertheless parse them
unerringly in the order in which they would be rendered in
English--could determine the value of each, and their bearing upon one
another.
This was quite a revelation to Harry; his face flushed with eagerness
and excitement, and so interested were both lads in their work, that the
hour was far exceeded before the lesson came to an end by Mrs. Holl
interfering bodily in the matter by carrying off the Dictionary, and
declaring that it was a shame that Harry should give so much trouble.
"It is no trouble at all, Mrs. Holl," Frank said, laughing. "You see one
is accustomed a little to teaching, as one often gives one's fag, or any
other little chap who asks, a construe, or explains his lesson to him.
But I can tell you that there are precious few of them who take it all
in as quickly as your son does. Now that I have made myself at home, I
will come in sometimes when school begins again, if you will let me, for
half an hour and read with Harry. But I don't think he will want any
help long. Still, it may help to show him the regular way of getting at
things. And now I must hurry off. You will ask Evan to think over what I
have said. Here is my address. I wrote it down in case I should find no
one in. If he makes up his mind about it before I come again, he had
better call on me there; the best time would be between nine and eleven
in the morning; I have always finished breakfast by nine, and I have put
off my holiday task so long, that I must stick at it regularly two hours
a day till school begins again, so he will be pretty sure to find me
between nine and eleven. Will you tell your husband not to worry himself
about seeing me? I don't want to be thanked, for it was, as I told you,
a sort of partnership business between your boy and me."
"Now I call that a downright nice sort of young chap," Mrs. Holl said,
as their visitor departed, "good-hearted and good-natured, without no
sort of nonsense. He just sits himself down and makes himself at home
as if he was one of the family, and I was able to go on with my washing
just as if he hadn't been here."
For a time Harry did not answer.
"So, that's a gentleman," he said at last, in a low voice, as if
thinking aloud; "I have never spoken to a gentleman before."
"Well, lad," Sarah Holl said, "there ain't much difference between the
gentry and other sorts. I don't see very much of them myself in the
houses I goes to, but I hears plenty about them from the servants' talk;
and, judging from that, a great many of them 'as just as nasty and
unpleasant ways as other people."
"I suppose," Harry said thoughtfully, "there can't be much difference in
real nature between them and us; there must, of course, be good and bad
among them; but there is more difference in their way of talking than I
expected."
"Well, of course, Harry; they have had education, that accounts for it;
just the same as you, who have educated yourself wonderful, talks
different to John and me and the rest of us."
"Yes," Harry said; "but I am not talking about mistakes in grammar; it's
the tone of voice, and the way of speaking that's so different. Now why
should that be, mother?"
"I suppose a good deal of it," Mrs. Holl answered, "is because they are
brought up in nusseries, and they can't run about the house, or holloa
or shout to each other in the streets. D' ye see they are taught to
speak quiet, and they hear their fathers and mothers, and people round
them, speaking quiet. You dun't know, Harry, how still it is in some of
them big houses, you seem half afraid to speak above a whisper."
"Yes, but I don't think he spoke lower than I do, mother, or than the
rest of us. O mother!" he went on, after a while, "isn't he good? Just
to think of his spending an hour and a half sitting here, showing me how
to construe. Why, I see the whole thing in a different way now; he has
made clear all sorts of things that I could not understand; and he said
he would come again too, and I am quite sure that when he says a thing
he means to do it. I don't believe he could tell a lie if he tried. And
is he not good-looking too?"
"He is a pleasant-looking young chap," Mrs. Holl replied, "but I should
not call him anything out of the way. Now I should call you a
better-looking chap than he is, Harry."
"O mother, what an idea!" Harry exclaimed, quite shocked at what seemed
to him a most disrespectful comparison to his hero.
"It ain't no idea at all," Mrs. Holl rejoined stoutly; "any one with
eyes in his head could see that if you was dressed the same as he is you
would be a sight the best-looking chap of the two."
"Ah mother!" Harry said, laughing, "you remind me of an old saying I saw
in a book the other day, 'A mother's geese are all swans.'"
"I am sure," Mrs. Holl said, in an aggrieved voice, "you ain't no goose,
Harry, and if any one else said so I should give them a bit of my mind
sharp enough."
Harry did not attempt to argue with her, but with a little laugh turned
to his books again, and was soon deep in the mysteries of Cæsar.
The next day a carrier's cart stopped before Mrs. Holl's house, to the
great amazement of the neighbourhood--for such an occurrence had not
been known in the memory of the oldest inhabitant in the street, and
quite a crowd of children collected to witness the delivery of a square
heavy box of considerable weight at the door.
Harry was almost beside himself with delight as he took out the
treasures it contained; and as fully half were story-books, his delight
was shared by the rest of the young Holls. It was evening when the cart
arrived, and John was just enjoying his first pipe, and he once more
uttered the sentiment he had expressed so often during the last four
days, "I should like to shake that young chap by the hand."
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV.
AN ADOPTED CHILD.
A FEW days after school had commenced Frank Norris called in again at
the Holls'. It was a bright day, and Harry had gone out in his box, and
Mrs. Holl was alone.
"Harry will be sorry he is out, sir," was her first greeting to Frank;
"he has been looking forward to your coming again. You don't know, sir,
how much good you have done him. The boy has generally wonderful good
spirits, considering his condition; still, though he don't say nought, I
can see sometimes that he isn't never quite happy except when he is
working away with his books or playing on that fiddle of his.
"Evan has been and spent all the money as was given him that day at the
Serpentine in buying a new fiddle for him. I don't see much in the thing
myself, and it seems to me they must have cheated Evan altogether, for
it ain't a new un, but an old, brown, dirty-looking thing, as looks as
if it had been made nigh fifty years; and they goes and charges him
thirty-eight shillings for it, and pretended to make a favour of it,
while John only paid seven and sixpence for the one he had before, which
was a beautiful new shiny one.
"However, Harry seems delighted with it, and says it's beautiful soft,
and mellow. But what he means I don't know, though I do allow it ain't
so squeaky as the other; and sometimes when Harry is playing soft on it,
it does sound beautiful. Still, thirty-eight shillings is a big price
for an old thing like that."
"Old fiddles are always worth more than new ones, Mrs. Holl. Do you know
there are some fiddles two or three hundred years old which could not be
bought for less than three or four hundred pounds?"
"My gracious!" Mrs. Holl exclaimed, "three or four hundred pounds for
such a thing as a fiddle. I calls it downright wicked."
"He is a wonderful boy that son of yours, Mrs. Holl," Frank said,
changing the subject; "a regular genius I should call him. What a pity
it is that he is a cripple!"
"Ay, that it is," Mrs. Holl agreed, "and he is a wonderful chap, is
Harry. But he ain't no son of mine, Mr. Norris, though he don't know it
himself, and I shouldn't like him to be told."
"Then what relation is he, Mrs. Holl, if it is not an impertinent
question?"
"He ain't no sort of relation at all, sir," the woman answered.
"Then how came you to bring him up, Mrs. Holl?" Frank asked in surprise.
"Well, sir, it was a very simple matter. But if so be as you care to
hear it, I will tell you just how it happened." And, leaning against the
mantelpiece, with the red light of the fire thrown up into her face,
Mrs. Holl went on very slowly, and speaking as though she almost saw
what she was relating.
"Well, sir, it were an evening in April--a cold bitter day. I was
sitting here between light and dark, drinking my tea with John, who was
just come home from work--John is my husband, you see, sir--when we
heard a noise outside in the street. We went out to see what was the
matter, and we found a poor young creature, with a baby in her arms, had
fallen down in a faint like.
"She was a pretty young thing, sir; and though her dress was poor and
torn, she looked as if she had not been always so. Some one says, 'Take
them to the workhouse.' 'No!' says I--for my heart yearned towards the
poor young thing--'bring her in here; mayn't we, John?' says I. Well,
sir, John did not say nothing, but he took the baby out of her arms and
gave it to me, and then he upped and took the poor young creature--she
were no great weight, sir--and carried her into the house, and laid her
on the bed, as it might be by the window there.
"Well, sir, that bed she never left; she came round a little, and lived
some days, but her mind were never rightly itself again. She would lay
there, with her baby beside her, and sing songs to herself; I don't know
what about, for it were some foreign language. She were very gentle and
quiet like, but I don't think she ever knew where she was, or anything
about it. She were very fond of baby, and would take it in her arms, and
hush it, and talk to it. She faded and faded away, and the doctor said
nothing could be done for her; it made my heart ache, sir, and if you
will believe me, I would go upstairs and cry by the hour.
"The thought of the little baby troubled me too. I had lost my first
little one, sir, and I could not a-bear the thought of the little thing
going to the workhouse. So one day I says to John, 'John, when that
poor mother dies, for God's sake don't 'ee send the little baby to the
workhouse; He has taken away our own little one, and may be He has sent
this one for us to love in his place. Let us take him as our own.' John,
he did not say nothing, but he up and gived me a great kiss, and said,
'Sairey, you're a good woman!' which of course, sir," Mrs. Holl put in
apologetically, "is neither here nor there, for any mother would have
done the same; but it's John's way when he's pleased. That very same
night the baby's mother died."
Standing with her rough honest face lit up by the bright fire-glow she
related it, simply, and as a matter of course, all unconscious of the
good part she had taken in it, assuming no credit to herself, or seeing
that she deserved any.
When she had finished there was a little silence. Frank passed his hand
furtively across his eyes, and then shook Mrs. Holl warmly by the hand,
saying, "Your husband was right, Mrs. Holl, you are a good woman."
Mrs. Holl looked completely amazed, and stammered out, "Lor' bless you,
sir! there wasn't anything out of the way in what I did, and there's
scores and scores would do the like. Having just lost my own little one,
my heart went out to the poor little thing, and it seemed sent natural
like, to fill up the place of the little angel who was gone from us.
Bless your heart, sir, there weren't nothing out of the way in that,
nothing at all, and we have never had cause to regret it. The boy's a
good boy, and a clever boy, and he is a comfort and a help to us; a
better boy never lived. But we have always grieved sorely over the
accident."
"Then he was not originally lame, Mrs. Holl?" Frank asked.
"Dear me! no, sir, not till he were six years old. It happened this way.
I was laid up at the time--I was just confined of Mary, she is my eldest
girl--and somehow Harry he went out in the street playing. I don't
rightly know how it happened; but never shall I forget when they brought
him in, and said that a cart had run over him. John, he was in--which
was lucky, for I think I lost my head like, and went clean out of my
mind for a bit, for I loved him just like my own. They did not think he
would have lived at first, for the cart had gone over the lower part of
his body and broke one of his thigh-bones, and the other leg up high. It
was a light cart I have heard tell, or it must have killed him.
"He were in bed for months, and, if you will believe me, if ever there
was a patient little angel on earth, it was surely Harry. He never
complained, and his chief trouble was for my sake. At last he got well;
but the doctors said he would never walk again, for they thought there
was some damage done to his spine; and sure enough he never has walked.
He is always cheerful, and keeps up wonderful, considering.
"He has always been given to reading. John made a shift to teach him his
letters, and then the children of the neighbours, they lent him their
schoolbooks, and taught him what they knew, and in a short time, bless
you, sir, he knew more than them all! He would sit and read for hours
together. He is wonderful clever, Harry is."
"Well, Mrs. Holl," Frank said, rising, "I am very much obliged to you
for your story; but I must be going now, or else I shall be late for
school. Tell Harry I am sorry I missed him, and will look in again soon.
Have you thought anything further of what I said about Evan?"
"Yes, sir, and thank you most kindly; but father thinks he had better
wait another year or so, till he gets a bit older and steadier. As for
them books as you was kind enough to send Harry, the boy must thank you
hisself; except when he is playing on his fiddle he is always reading at
them, and it is as much as I can do to get him outside the doors. He was
never very fond of it, for he thinks people look at him; but since those
books has come I have regular to take them away from him, put his cap on
his head, and push him outside the door. He will be in a taking that he
has missed you to-day."
"Well, good-bye, Mrs. Holl, I haven't a moment to lose," and Frank,
putting on his hat, made off at a sharp run to school, only arriving
just in time to say prayers.
Frank Norris, although a Sixth town boy, was not head of Richards', as
Johnstone had been longer in that form, and was consequently senior to
him. Johnstone was, however, small and slightly built, and cared little
for rowing, cricket, or football. He had gained his place in the Sixth
by sheer hard work rather than by talent. He was fussy and irritable,
with a strong sense of the importance of his position as a Sixth town
boy and head of Richards'. Between him and Frank there was no
cordiality, for it irritated him that the latter was upon all occasions
appealed to, and his advice asked in everything relating to games, and
all matters of dispute referred to him. Frank, on the other hand,
although he at all times gave way to Johnstone in house matters, was
constantly annoyed by his continual self-assertion and his irritation at
trifles. They were the only two Sixth town boys at Richards', but there
were three Upper 'Shells,' Harris, Travers, and James, and these ranked
almost with the Sixth, for the great demarcation of the School was
between the Upper and Under 'Shells,' the former having the right to
fag.
Frank and Johnston had each a small room of their own; the three Upper
"Shells" had a room together, but they used Frank's study almost as much
as their own; one or other would generally come in to work with him in
the evening, and it was here that councils were held as to house matters
or knotty points connected with field or water.
"I wish Trafalgar Square wasn't out of bounds," Harris said one evening.
They had finished the work for the next day, and had gathered for a chat
in Frank's room before turning into bed. Frank was sitting in a rickety
arm-chair by the fire, Harris on the table, and the other two on the
bed.
"Why do you wish so, Harris?" Frank said.
"Why, I should like to go up to see those rows they have pretty nearly
every day. Thompson, the home boarder, told me he saw a regular fight
there yesterday evening between the police and the Chartists."
"Well, it's no use wishing, because bounds begin at the gate in Dean's
Yard. I never could understand myself why we should be allowed to go the
other way, down the slums, as far as we please, where there is every
chance of getting into a row, while we are not allowed to walk quietly
up Parliament Street; then we may go along the other way, by the new
Houses of Parliament, to Westminster Bridge, and across the bridge to
baths; but we may not go out from Dean's Yard and walk across in front
of the Abbey to the Bridge. I expect when the rules were made there were
no houses built beyond us, and there were fields extending back from the
river, while the other way led up to the Court. But I should certainly
like to go up and see one of those Chartist riots. However, I don't
think it can be done; it would be setting a bad example to the young
uns, and the chances are ten to one we should run against one of the
masters."
"Hardly likely, I should think," Travers said; "it would be shocking bad
luck to run against one of them in a crowd like that."
"Well, you see, Travers, we are so preciously conspicuous in these
tail-coats; of course it's the custom, and I stick up for old customs;
still, I do think it's a ridiculous thing that we should be obliged to
wear tail-coats. Of course the jackets for the fellows under the Upper
'Shell' are all right, but one cannot go on wearing jackets higher than
that; still, I do think they might let us wear cutaways; tail-coats were
all right when every one else wore tail-coats, but in our days it is
absurd to wear a coat which nobody else wears except for an evening
dress. You can tell a fellow a mile off as a Westminster boy by his
coat."
"It has its advantages," James said. "Look how Johnstone would lose his
importance without his tails, he would look like a plucked jay."
There was a general laugh.
"He is not a bad fellow," Frank replied, "though he does think a good
deal of himself. Still, as no one else thinks anything of him, it is
just as well he should fancy himself. But never mind that now. No, I
don't think there is any chance of our getting to see the fun in
Trafalgar Square. I should like to go to one of the halls where those
fellows spout, and to get up and say something the other way. Of course
one would have to go in a strong body, else there would not be much of
us left when we got into the street again. I must have a chat with
Perkins about it, he is sure to be up to all that kind of thing."
"Yes, but there would be the trouble of getting in after lock-up."
"Oh, I dare say we might get over that," Harris replied; "the fags would
never peach."
"We won't tell them if we can help it," Frank said; "if we go in for any
lark of that sort only one of our fags must know it. I can trust young
Phillpot to hold his tongue. Well, I will chat it over with Perkins, and
see what can be done."
Perkins was a retired prize-fighter who kept a public-house on Bank
Side. In a large room attached to the house he gave sparring exhibitions
twice a week, with the aid of other fellow-pugilists, and also gave
private lessons in the art of self-defence. Bank Side was not out of
bounds, but it was strictly against the rules for any boy to enter a
public-house; nevertheless, a good many of the Westminster boys had
learned boxing from this worthy. There was a private entrance behind the
house into what Perkins called his "saloon," and the boys strove to
consider that by using this they avoided an infringement of the rule.
The fact of their taking lessons was unknown to the master, for indeed
at Westminster the boys were at perfect liberty to do as they pleased
out of school-time, providing that they did not go out of bounds.
The rules enforcing attendance at fields or water, of abstaining from
entering public-houses, and generally of conducting themselves as
gentlemen, were left to what may be called their own police, the senior
Queen's Scholars and the Sixth Form town boys, and these kept a far
more rigorous hand over the younger boys than the masters could possibly
have done. A vigorous thrashing was the punishment for shirking fields,
or for any action regarded as caddish; and it was therefore only the
Upper 'Shells' and Sixth, who, being free from the operation of the law
as to fields and water, were able to frequent Perkins's establishment.
Of those who went there, most of them did so for the genuine purpose of
learning boxing; but a few used the place for the purpose of smoking and
drinking. But these did so at hours when there was no chance of finding
Perkins at work with his pupils, for public feeling would not have
tolerated, even in an upper form boy, anything that would have been
looked upon as such bad form.
The next morning, after breakfast, Frank walked down to "The Black Dog."
He was one of Perkins's best pupils, and the latter had more than once
been heard to express his regret that Frank had not been born in a lower
class of life.
"He's got the making of a champion in him," the ex-pugilist would say
regretfully; "in another five years, when he has got his full height and
filled out, I warrant he will fight twelve stone; look how quick he is
on his pins; and I tell you I have all my work to do now to guard my
head, he hits like lightning, and once or twice has fairly knocked me
off my pins. I'd back him now for fifty pounds against any novice in
England; and as for pluck, I have never seen him wince, hit him as hard
as you will he always comes up smiling. Barkley, he is a good boxer too,
but he ain't got temper, sir; he gets nasty if he has a sharp counter;
and though he keeps cool enough, there is an ugly look about his face
which tells its tale. He would never keep his temper, and I doubt if
he's real game at bottom. I knows my customers, and have never hit him
as I hit Norris; I don't want to lose a pupil as pays fair and square,
and I know I should mighty soon lose him if I were to let out at him
sharp. No, there is bad blood in that chap somewhere."
"Well, Master Norris, and what do you want at this time of the morning?"
he said, as Frank, after entering the saloon, rang a bell which sounded
in the bar and summoned him to the saloon. "Not a lesson at this time of
the day, surely?"
"Not exactly, Perkins, considering I am due at ten o'clock, and
therefore have only five minutes to stay. I just dropped in to ask you
about something on which you can perhaps advise us."
"Fire away, Master Norris; anything I can do for you you knows as I
will."
"I was thinking, Perkins, that it would be a great lark to go up to one
of those halls where those Chartist fellows meet, and to hear their
speeches."
"I don't see that there would be any lark in it," Perkins replied,
"unless you meant getting up a row."
"I don't know that I exactly meant to get up a row; but if there was a
row, so much the more lark."
"Well, sir, if I might give my advice, I don't think, if I was you, I
would do it in school-time. Your hands can guard your face pretty tidy,
I grant you, but the chances is as you would not get out of such a row
as that would be without being marked. I knows of a place over the other
side of the water, not far from the New Cut, where they meet. Bill Lowe,
him as comes here to spar twice a week, yer know, he goes there; he
takes up with them Chartist notions, which I don't hold with no ways. I
don't see nothing in them seven pints as would do anything for the ring;
and that being so, let it alone, says I. However, Master Norris, since
you have a fancy that way I will talk the matter over with him, and then
if you really makes up your mind you would like to go, I will get four
or five of my lads as can use their mawleys, and we will go in a body.
"Then if there should be a row, I reckon we can fight our way out. There
ain't much in them chaps, tailors and shoemakers, and the like; they are
always great hands for jaw, them tailors and shoemakers, but I never
seed one as I would put five pound on in a twelve-foot ring. Poor
undersized creatures, for the most part, but beggars for jaw; but there
are some rough uns with 'em, and yer might get badly marked before yer
got out."
But Frank's mind was now bent upon it.
"It will be a lark, Perkins, anyhow; things have been rather slow at
School lately, and three or four of us have set our minds on it. So if
you let me know what evening will suit you, we will be here."
Four evenings later Frank Norris, with the other three boys, slipped out
after prayers were over, and started on their expedition. Frank's fag
closed the door noiselessly behind them and rebolted it; he had strict
orders to take his place at an upper window at eleven o'clock and watch
for their return. If when they made their appearance the house was quiet
and the lights out, he was to slip down and let them in; if not, they
were to go away again and return an hour later. All four boys were in
thick pea-jackets, and wore rough caps which they had bought for the
purpose.
When they reached Perkins's public-house, the prize-fighter surveyed
them closely.
"Ye will pass in a crowd," he said; "but keep your caps well down over
yer faces. Now mind, young gents, if there's a row comes over this 'ere
business, I ain't to blame in the matter."
"All right, Perkins, but there will be no row."
Being joined by Bill Lowe and three other boxers, they set out together
for the New Cut; past the New Houses of Parliament--still in the hands
of the builders--over Westminster Bridge, past the flaring lights in
front of Astley's, and into the New Cut.
Here, as usual, business was brisk; the public-houses were doing a
roaring trade. Rows of costermongers' carts lined the road on either
side, and the hoarse shouts of the vendors of fruit, vegetables, and
shell-fish, mingled with the Babel of voices from the throng of people
who loitered about the street, which was regarded as the promenade of
the neighbourhood. Sounds of musical instruments and a loud chorus came
from the upper windows of many of the public-houses and from the low
music-halls known by the name of "penny gaffs."
It was in front of one of these that the party stopped. Unlike the
others, no row of flaring lights burned over the entrance, no posters
with huge letters and sensational headings invited the public to enter;
one solitary lamp hung over the door, which was kept closed; men were
passing in, however, after exchanging a word with one of those stationed
at the door.
"It's a private sort of affair," Perkins said; "none ain't supposed to
go but those as is in the swim. They pretend to be mighty afraid of the
peelers; but, Lor' bless you! the police don't trouble about them. When
these chaps gets to making rows in the street, and to kicking up a
rumpus, then they will have something to say about it sharp enough; but
as long as they merely spout and argue among themselves, the peelers
lets them go on. Well, young gents, here we goes."
Bill Lowe advanced first; he was known to the doorkeeper, and the words
"All right, mate, friends of mine," were sufficient. He stood aside, and
the party entered. Passing through a passage, they were in a hall some
fifty feet long by half as wide; the walls had originally been painted
blue, with wreaths of flowers along the top, but these and the roof were
so discoloured by smoke and dirt, that the whole were reduced to a dingy
brown. At the end at which they entered was a gallery extending some
fifteen feet into the room, at the other end was a raised platform, with
a drop curtain. The latter was now raised, and displayed a table with
half a dozen chairs. The chairman for the evening was seated in the
centre of the table. He was a young man with a pale face, eyes bloodshot
from many nights spent in the reeking atmosphere of the room, and
tumbled hair, which looked as if weeks had passed since it had made the
acquaintance of a brush. He had just risen as the party entered; the
room, which was fairly filled with men, rang with the applause which had
greeted the speaker who had sat down.
"Fellow-workmen," said the chairman--("I wonder what you work at," Frank
muttered below his breath; "nothing that requires washing,
anyhow.")--"Fellow-workmen, your cheers are evidence how deeply you have
been moved by the noble words of my friend Mr. Duggins, and how your
blood boils at the hideous slavery to which we are condemned by a
tyrannical aristocracy. You will now be addressed by my eloquent friend
Mr. Simpkins, boot-closer."
[Illustration: THE BREAK-UP OF THE CHARTIST MEETING.]
Mr. Simpkins rose. He was a short, round-shouldered man, made still
shorter by the bend which he had acquired by the operation of
boot-closing; his eyes were small, and sunken in his head; his nose wide
and flat, as if in his early youth he had fallen on the edge of a pewter
pot, and he too had the appearance of regarding water with as deep an
aversion as he viewed the aristocracy.
"Fellow-workmen," he began, "or rather I should say
fellow-slaves,"--this sentiment was received with a roar of
applause,--"the time is approaching when our chains will be broken, when
the bloodstained power known as the British Constitution will be rent
and trampled under foot, when the myrmidons of power will flee before an
uprisen people. They know it, these oppressors of ours; they tremble in
their palaces and mansions, where they feast upon the wealth drained
from the blood of the people. They know that the day is at hand, and
that the millions whose labour has created the wealth of this country
are about to reclaim their own."
A roar of applause went up as the speaker paused and mopped his forehead
with a red handkerchief. But the applause was suddenly stilled by the
sound of the emphatic "Bosh!" which Frank shouted at the top of his
voice. Every one turned round, and shouts arose of "Who is that?" "Down
with him!" "Turn him out!" "Knock him down!" The orator seized the
occasion.
"A spy of the tottering government has intruded upon the deliberations
of this assembly, but I tell him I fear him not."
"Never mind, out he goes," one of the men shouted, and all began to
press upon the little group standing at the back of the room, and from
one of whom the objectionable word had evidently come.
"We are in for a row, Mr. Norris, and no mistake," Perkins said; "the
sooner we gets out of this the better."
But this was not so easily done; the crowd had already interposed
between them and the door.
"Now stand back," Perkins said, "and let us out. We ain't no spies, and
we don't want to hurt any one. Some of you may know me: I am Perkins of
the Black Dog, over at Westminster, so you had best leave us alone."
The greater part of those present, however, had imbibed sufficient to
render them valorous, and a rush was made upon the party.
Their reception was a warm one; the five prize-fighters struck out right
and left, while Frank and his schoolfellows ably seconded them. A tall
red-haired fellow who had singled out Frank, was met by a blow which
knocked him off his feet, and he fell backward as if shot. Their
vigorous blows drove the leading assailants back, and in spite of their
numbers the crowd of angry men recoiled before their handful of
opponents.
"Come on," Perkins said, "make for the door; they are breaking up the
chairs, and we shall have it hot in a few minutes."
Keeping together, they fought their way, in spite of all opposition, to
the door, Perkins leading, while Bill Lowe brought up the rear. They
were soon in the open air.
"Now," Perkins exclaimed, "you hook it, gents, as fast as you can; me
and Bill will keep the door for a minute." The boys dashed off, and
after making at full speed into the Westminster Bridge Road, slackened
their pace, and walked quietly back to Dean's Yard. They were in high
glee over their adventure, which all agreed had been a splendid lark,
and was the more satisfactory as all had escaped without any mark which
would testify against them. It was still early, and they had for two
hours to walk the streets until the whistle of the fag at the window
told them that all were in bed and quiet, and they might safely make
their entry. This was effected without noise; the bolts were slipped
into their places again, and with their shoes in their hands, the party
went noiselessly up to their rooms.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER V.
A TERRIBLE ACCUSATION.
TWO days later, as Frank was about to start for the cricket-field, a
small boy, whom he recognised as a son of Perkins, stopped him.
"Father wants to speak to you perticular, Mr. Norris."
"All right, young un, I will go round there at once."
Wondering what Perkins could have to say to him, Frank took his way to
the public-house.
"What is it, Perkins?" he asked the prize-fighter as the latter let him
into his private parlour.
"Well sir, there's a rumpus over this business as we had the other
night."
"How a rumpus, Perkins?"
"Well, sir, there was a tall red-haired chap--leastways I hear as he's
tall and red-headed, and is a tailor by trade; his name is Suggs. It
seems as how he got knocked down in the scrummage, and was so bad that
the police, who came up after you left, took him to hospital; they
brought him round all right, but it seems as how the bridge of his nose
was broke, and it will be flat to his face for the rest of his life. Now
I fancy that's a piece of your handiwork, Mr. Norris; I saw jist such a
chap as that go down when you hit him, and I thought to myself at the
time what a onener it was."
"Yes, I did knock down just such a fellow," Frank said, "and I am sorry
I hit him so hard; I was afraid at the time that I hurt him."
"You should not let out from the shoulder in that sort of way, Mr.
Norris," the pugilist said, shaking his head; "you hit like the kick of
a horse, and you never know what mayn't come of them sort of blows. No,
sir; half-armed hitting is the thing for a general row; it hurts just as
much, and is just as good for closing up an eye, but it don't do no
general damage, so to speak. Now, sir, there's a row over the business.
In course I holds my tongue; but they says as four of the party was
young uns, and they guessed as they was gents. Now they puts things
together, and have found out as I gives lessons to some of you
Westminster gents, and they guesses as some of you was with me. Now, as
I tells them, what can they do? They was the first to begin it, and we
was only standing on self-defence, that's the way I puts it. No
magistrate would look at the charge for a minute. It stands to reason
that nine men did not attack four or five hundred. They must have been
attacking us, that's clear to any one; and if it was me I should not
care the snap of a finger about it--that's what I tells the red-haired
tailor when he came here with two of his pals this morning. 'We has as
much right to our opinions as you have; you attacks us,' says I, 'and we
gives you pepper, that's all about it.' 'His beauty's spoilt for life,'
says one of his mates. 'He never had no beauty to spoil,' says I, 'by
the look of 'im,' so we got to words. 'They was Westminster boys,' says
he. 'That's all you knows about it,' says I. 'I will go to their
masters,' says he, 'and report the case, and show him my nose,' says he.
'You have got no case to report,' says I, 'and no nose to show.' 'We
will see about that,' says he; 'I ain't going to be made an object for
the rest of my life for nothing.'
"So we goes on arguing; but at last he lets out that if I bring him a
'tenner' in the course of the week he will shut up. I ain't allowed of
course, Mr. Norris, that any of you young gents had a hand in the fray,
quite the contrary; but he has got it into his head that it is so, and
he has made up his mind that he will go to the master. I don't think it
likely that they could spot you, for they could hardly have got a fair
look at your faces."
"No," Frank said, "I don't suppose they would recognise any of us; but
the first thing Litter would do would be to ask us if any of us were
concerned in the affair. It's a beastly nuisance, for just now I happen
to be completely cleaned out, and I am sure I do not know where I could
get ten pounds from."
"If it had been any other time I could have helped you, Mr. Norris, but
I paid my brewers only last night, and I ain't got two quid in the
house; but I might manage to get it for you by the end of the week, if
there ain't no other way. But my advice to you would be, let the
red-haired man go to the master; if you keep your own counsel, no one
can swear it out against you."
"No, I won't do that, Perkins," Frank said, "it's known in the house;
besides, if I am asked I must say it's me. Thank you for your offer. I
will see you again in a day or two."
Frank walked back to his boarding-house, moody and dejected. Harris was
in his room working. Frank told him what had happened.
"This is a bad business indeed," Harris said. "By Jove! if it comes out,
Litter would expel the four of us. What is to be done? I am sure I don't
know."
"I don't see where I am to get ten pounds; I have only got fifteen
shillings now."
"I have only seven and sixpence," Harris said. "I have paid Shotten's
bill for last term this week, and I know that Travers and James have not
much more than I have. We might get something on our watches; but they
are all silver, and I don't suppose we could get more than a pound
apiece for them. But still that's something, and with our united silver
would make up six pounds."
"I could get a pound or two from my cousin," Frank said; "Fred always
seems to be well supplied with money."
"Because he never spends any," Harris said. "I am mistaken if Barkley
will lend you anything."
"Oh, he will lend it if he's got it." But Harris turned out to be right.
After the next school Frank laid the case before his cousin, who
listened in silence to the story.
"I am very sorry, Frank," he said when he had finished, "but I am
entirely out of money at present."
"I thought you always had money," Frank said shortly.
"Not always," Fred replied quietly. "As you know, I am fond of books,
and last week I paid my bill for that edition of Shakespeare that you
were admiring."
Fred Barkley had indeed a library of books of which he was very proud,
and which was worth more than all those belonging to the rest of the
boys up College together. Frank was too proud to suggest that his
cousin could, if he chose, easily raise the amount required on a few of
his favourites, and left the room without saying a word.
Fred Barkley did not continue the work upon which he was engaged after
his cousin had left the room, but sat looking fixedly at the papers
before him.
"This is a grand opportunity," he muttered to himself, "and I should be
a fool if I let it slip. The question is, how is it best to be managed.
I should be an idiot indeed if I cannot put a spoke into Master Frank's
wheel somehow."
The next day the Sixth Form, as usual, went into the library to do their
construing. Dr. Litter, according to his usual custom, walked up and
down hearing them and asking questions, the form sitting at their desks,
which ran round the room. The Doctor was a fidgety man, and was always
either twirling his watch-chain or eye-glass, or rattling the keys,
knife, and other articles in his trousers pockets. Being perfectly
conscious of the habit, he often emptied the contents of his pocket on
to the table before starting to walk about the room, and this he did on
the present occasion.
As often happened, he was called from the room in the course of the
lesson, and, ordering the boys to get up twenty additional lines of
their Greek play in his absence, he left the room and did not return for
half an hour. While he was away the boys moved freely about, some to
consult each other's lexicons, others to chat. When Dr. Litter returned
the lesson was finished, and the boys went back to the great schoolroom.
On the following morning Frank Norris received a letter. On his opening
it he found, to his astonishment, that it contained only a bank-note
for ten pounds, with the words "From a friend." Frank was simply
astounded.
Who on earth could have sent him the exact sum of which he stood in
need? He at once told his three friends what had occurred, and they were
as much astonished as himself. All agreed that it was a perfect Godsend,
though how any one could have got to know of his necessity for ten
pounds at this special time none could imagine, as this was, as far as
they were aware, known only to themselves and Fred Barkley. Frank at
once concluded that his cousin must have sent him the money, and
immediately sent up College and asked him to come to his room. Fred soon
came up, and Frank at once proceeded to thank him for his gift. Fred,
however, appeared as surprised as himself, and disclaimed any knowledge
whatever of the note.
"I told you, Frank," he said reproachfully, "that I had no money. Do you
think that if I had it I would not have given it to you at once, instead
of sending it in that roundabout manner? Do you know the handwriting?
that may afford you some clue."
"No," Frank said; "the name and address, as well as the words within,
are done in printing characters, so that it is impossible to say who
wrote them. Well, it is an extraordinary business, and I can only say
that I am extremely thankful to the good fairy who has got me out of the
scrape."
Frank felt indeed relieved. He felt sure that the head-master would
consider such an escapade by boys of the Sixth Form an unforgivable
crime, and that expulsion would follow discovery; and knowing the hot
temper of his uncle, he feared that the latter would view the matter in
the most serious light. It was therefore with a light heart that he went
across to the Black Dog and placed the note in the hands of Perkins,
merely saying that he was glad to say that he had been able to get the
money to satisfy the red-haired tailor for his loss of beauty.
"It goes agin my heart to give it to him, Mr. Norris; but in course if
you decide not to face it out there's nothing for it. I am glad you have
got the money together."
A week later one of the monitors informed Frank that the head-master
wished to see him in the library. Wondering at this unusual order, Frank
at once repaired there. Dr. Litter was sitting at his table, and he
raised his eyes gravely as Frank entered.
"Norris," he said, "I have been shocked at what has happened more than
at anything which has occurred to me during my head-mastership of
Westminster. I may tell you that everything is discovered. Now I leave
it to you to make a full and frank confession."
Frank was thunderstruck. So in some way his breaking out of bounds had
become known to the headmaster. The tailor must have turned traitor and
peached after having received his money.
For a minute he stood silent and confounded, while Dr. Litter looked at
him gravely.
"I acknowledge, sir," Frank began, "that I broke out of bounds to go to
a Chartist meeting, and that I got into a row there. I am very sorry
now, but I really meant no harm by it; it was a foolish lark."
"And is that all you have to confess?" Dr. Litter said quietly.
"Yes, sir," Frank said in surprise, "I don't know that there's anything
else for me to say."
"You have not come to the most serious part of it yet," the Doctor said.
"I don't know what you mean, sir," Frank said, more and more astonished.
"You hurt him, and very seriously."
"Yes, sir, I broke a man's nose in the fight, but I did it in
self-defence."
"And you paid him ten pounds to prevent his coming to me," the Doctor
said.
"I acknowledge that I did so, but I don't see there was any harm in
that."
"And where did you get the ten pounds from?" the Doctor asked slowly.
"It was sent to me in an envelope," Frank replied.
"And who sent it to you?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Norris," the Doctor said sternly, "you stole that note from my table."
Frank stepped back as if struck, the blood left his face, and he stood
deadly pale.
"Stole it!" he repeated, in a low, wondering tone.
"Yes," the Doctor repeated, "stole it from my table when I left the
room."
"It is a lie!" Frank exclaimed, in a burst of passion; "it is a lie,
sir, whoever said it."
Without replying to the outburst, the Doctor touched a bell which stood
on the table, and a junior waiting outside entered.
"Tell Mr. Wire and Mr. Richards I wish to speak to them."
Not a word was spoken in the library until the under-masters entered. A
thousand thoughts passed rapidly through Frank's brain. He was
bewildered, and almost stupefied by this sudden charge, and yet he felt
how difficult it would be to clear himself from it. The under-master and
Frank's house-master entered.
"I have sent for you, gentlemen, on a most painful business," Dr. Litter
said. "I mentioned to you, Mr. Wire, a week since, that I had lost a
ten-pound note. I placed it on the table here, during the morning
lesson, with my keys and pencil. I was called out of the room for half
an hour. When school was over I put the things back in my pocket, but it
was not until the afternoon that I missed the note. Thinking it over, I
could not recall taking it up with the other things from the table; but
of this I could not be positively certain. As I told you, I could not
for a moment believe that any of the boys of my form could have taken
it, and I could only suppose that I had dropped it between the School
and my house.
"As it happened, I had only got the note the day before from my bankers,
and had therefore no difficulty in obtaining the number. I gave notice
at the Bank of England at once that the note had been lost, and
requested them to obtain the name and address of the presenter, should
it be brought in. It was presented yesterday by a man who, after being
questioned, said he was a tailor, living in Bermondsey. As I was
determined to follow the matter up, I saw the Superintendent of Police,
and a policeman was sent across to him. The man said that he had been
seriously injured by one of my boys at a low meeting held at some place
in the New Cut, and that the ten pounds had been given him as
compensation, he having threatened to come and complain to me.
"He was ignorant of the name of the boy, but he had received the note
from a prize-fighter named Perkins, who keeps a low public-house down at
Millbank. I sent a note to the man, requesting him to be good enough to
call upon me this morning early. He did so. I told him that I had heard
that he had paid to that man ten pounds as compensation for an injury
which he had received from one of my boys, and I asked him from whom he
had received it.
"He told me that nothing whatever would have induced him to tell; but as
he knew the young gent would himself confess the instant the question
was put, for he had told him he should do so did it come to my ears,
there was no motive in his keeping silence, and it was Mr. Norris who
had given it to him. On inquiry I find that the meeting in question was
held between half-past nine and eleven; therefore, to have been present,
Norris must have broken out of bounds and got into the boarding-house at
night.
"This, in itself, would be a very grave offence, but it is as nothing by
the side of the other. I am most reluctantly obliged to admit that I can
come to but one conclusion: Norris, having broken bounds, and got into a
disgraceful fray, was afraid that the matter would come to my ears. It
was absolutely necessary for him to procure ten pounds to buy the
silence of this man; my own very culpable carelessness, which I most
deeply regret, left the note on the table, and the temptation was too
much for him.
"I have questioned him how he got it. If he had said that he had picked
it up in the yard, and, not knowing to whom it belonged, had very
improperly, without making inquiry, devoted it to the purpose of
silencing this man, I should have gladly believed him--for hitherto he
has stood high in my estimation, and I should certainly have considered
him incapable of an act of theft. But he tells me that it was sent to
him in an envelope, by whom he does not know; and this absurd story is,
to my mind, a clear proof that he must have stolen it from the table."
The two masters had at first looked at Frank with incredulous surprise,
but as the narrative continued and the proofs appeared to accumulate,
the expression changed, and they regarded him with horror, not unmixed
with pity. For a minute there was silence, then Mr. Richards said:--
"Strong as the proofs seem to be, sir, I can hardly believe in the
possibility of Norris having behaved in this way. He has always been a
particularly straightforward, honest, and honourable lad; there is not a
boy in the house of whom I would so absolutely have disbelieved this
tale. That he did send this note to the man there can, by his own
confession, be no doubt, but I still cannot believe that he stole it.
Come now, Norris, you have got into a terrible scrape, but don't make
matters worse; tell us frankly the truth about it."
"I have told the truth," Frank said, in a low and unnatural voice. "I
received the note in an envelope; here it is, sir, with, as you see,
only the words 'From a friend.' I showed it when I had got it to Harris,
Travers, James, and Barkley, and had not the remotest idea who it came
from."
"To whom had you mentioned the need you had of ten pounds?" Mr. Wire
asked.
"No one knew it except those four and Perkins, not a soul."
The three masters looked even more grave. The four boys were sent for
one by one, and were asked if they had mentioned to any one the need
which Frank had of ten pounds; but all declared they had spoken to no
one on the subject.
"He showed you the envelope containing the note he received; what did
you think about it?"
"It seemed a curious thing, sir," Harris said, "but none of us could
account for it."
"I am accused," Frank said, in a harsh voice, "of having stolen that
note from Dr. Litter's table."
For the moment the four boys stood in silent astonishment.
"Nonsense, Frank," Harris burst out impetuously, "we know you better
than that, old fellow; if an angel from heaven came down and told me you
were a thief I would not believe him," and Harris seized his friend's
hand and wrung it warmly, an example followed by his three companions.
Hitherto Frank's face had been hard and set, but he broke down now, and
the tears streamed down his cheeks.
"You can go now," Dr. Litter said, and when the door closed upon them he
continued: "I would give much, very much, Norris, to be able to believe
in your innocence; but I cannot see a possibility of it; the evidence to
my mind is overwhelming. I acquit you of any idea of deliberate theft.
You were pressed and afraid of exposure, and the temptation offered by
the note was too strong for you; you thought you saw a way of escape,
and to account to your comrades for the possession of the money, you
put it in an envelope and posted it, directed to yourself. Even now, if
you will confess the truth, I will send you home privately, and avoid
public expulsion and disgrace in consideration of the good character you
have always hitherto borne; if not, I must at once lay the whole facts
before your uncle and guardian, and to-morrow you will be publicly
expelled."
"I have nothing to say, sir," Frank said quietly; "overwhelming as the
proof appears against me, I have spoken the simple truth, and I swear
that I never saw that note until I took it from the envelope."
"Go to your room, sir!" Dr. Litter said, with indignation, "this
continued denial is almost worse than the offence."
Without a word Frank rose and left the library.
"This is indeed a shocking business," Mr. Wire said, as he followed Dr.
Litter to the schoolroom.
"I cannot credit it," Mr. Richards put in; "I know him so well, that,
absolutely conclusive as I allow the evidence to be, I still hesitate to
believe him to be guilty."
After school was over Fred Barkley ran up to his cousin's room.
"My dear Frank," he exclaimed, "we are ordered not to communicate with
you, but I could not help running in to tell you that every one believes
you to be innocent."
"I hardly know whether I believe it myself," Frank said bitterly. "But
you can do something for me, Fred; I have written a line to my uncle,
will you post it for me at once?"
"Certainly," Fred replied; "but there is some one coming upstairs, so I
must be off." He took the letter and was gone. It contained only a few
words:--
"My dear Uncle,--If you believe me innocent of this hideous charge,
which I swear to you I am not guilty of, send me one line by hand when
you get this. As long as I know that you have faith in me I can face it
out."
The afternoon passed slowly to the prisoner. His uncle would get the
letter between three and four, and he might have an answer half an hour
afterwards. Hour after hour passed, and, except the servant who brought
up his tea, no one came near him. He reasoned to himself that his uncle
might be out. At eight o'clock he heard a noise on the stairs; a number
of feet approached his room, and then the door opened, and the whole of
the boys in the boarding-house poured in.
"Norris, old fellow," Harris said, "we could stop away no longer, and in
spite of orders we have come to see you. I beg to tell you in the name
of the whole house, and I may say the whole School, that not a boy here
believes you to be guilty. How the note came into your hands we don't
know and we don't care, but we are certain you did not take it."
"No! no!" was shouted in a chorus.
"So keep up your spirits, old fellow," Harris said, "it will come right
sooner or later."
For some time Frank was unable to speak.
"Thank you all," he said at last, in a choking voice, "it is a
consolation to me indeed to know that my old friends still believe in
me; but, till my innocence is proved, I shall never be able to look the
world in the face again."
"Come, boys, this will not do," a voice at the door said; "Harris, you
elder boys ought to set a better example to the younger ones. I told you
that the Doctor's orders were positive that no one was to communicate
with Norris."
"I can't help it, sir," Harris said; "we all felt we couldn't go to bed
to-night without telling Norris that we knew he was innocent."
"Well, well, you must go downstairs now,"--not unkindly; "you must not
stay a minute longer." There was a chorus of "Good night, Norris!" "Good
night, old fellow!" "Keep up your pluck!" and various other encouraging
expressions, and the party filed out of the door; Mr. Richards waited to
see the last out, and then left Frank to his thoughts.
Not till ten o'clock did Frank give up all hope of hearing from his
uncle, then he felt he had been condemned.
"All my school-fellows acquit me, and my uncle, who should know me
better than any of them, condemns me. I wonder what Alice said. I don't
believe she would believe me guilty if all the world told her."
At this moment the door opened quietly again, and Fred Barkley entered.
Frank leapt to his feet to see if he was the bearer of a letter.
Fred shook his head in answer to the unasked question. "I have slipped
out of College to see you, Frank, and Richards has given me leave to
come up. I have no news, I only came to see what you were going to do."
"You posted the letter to my uncle, Fred?" he asked.
"Yes, at once," he replied.
Frank was silent.
"What do you mean to do?" Fred went on.
"Do?" Frank asked, "what do you mean?"
"Why, I suppose you don't mean to stop here until to-morrow."
"I don't know," Frank replied, "I had not thought about it."
"I shouldn't, if I were in your place. It would be a fearful business;
there hasn't been a boy expelled from Westminster for the last thirty
years. I shouldn't stop for it if I were you."
"But what am I to do? where am I to go?" said Frank listlessly.
"Do?" said Fred, "why, go abroad to be sure. I should go out to
California, or Australia, or somewhere, and in time this will be all
forgotten. Perhaps it will turn out who sent that money. It is not as if
facing it out would do any good, for you can prove nothing. Every one
who knows you believes you innocent."
"Uncle Harry doesn't," Frank said bitterly, "or he would have sent an
answer to my letter."
"Ah! well, you know what he is," Fred said, "how passionate and hasty he
is; but after a time he will think as we all do, never fear. Look here,
I thought that you would want some money, so have been round to Ginger's
and have sold all my books. The old beggar would not give me more than
twenty pounds for them, though I have paid him more than double that,
besides what I have bought from others. However, here are the twenty
pounds at your service, if you like to take them."
Frank remained irresolute for a moment; then the thought of the terrible
scene in the schoolroom, and of the tones in which the Doctor would
pronounce his expulsion, overcame him.
"I may as well go before as after, for I could not go home after that.
Thank you, Fred, with all my heart; I will take your money and advice,
and if I get a rich man I will pay you again. Are the fellows in bed?"
"Yes," Fred replied, "and Richards is in his study, so you can go down
with me and slip out easy enough."
"Tell the others," Frank said, "that I went because I could not face the
scene to-morrow, and that I hope some day to return and prove my
innocence."
Without another word he opened his drawers, packed some clothes in a
small portmanteau, put on his pea-jacket and the low cap he had worn in
his unfortunate expedition to the New Cut; then he stole softly
downstairs with Fred, and sallied out into the night air.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VI.
AT NEW ORLEANS.
FRANK NORRIS took his way eastward after leaving Westminster. He slept
at a small hotel in the city, and at daybreak walked on to the docks. He
was careless where he went, so that it was out of England; but he was
determined, if possible, to work his passage, so as to leave the sum of
money in his pocket untouched until he got to his destination. He went
on board a number of ships and asked the captains if they wanted hands,
but on his acknowledgment that he had never been at sea, none of them
would ship him for the outward voyage only. At last he paused before a
fine ship, the _Mississippi_; a printed placard on the wharf beside her
mentioned that the well-known and favourite clipper would sail for New
Orleans on that day. He walked on board and went up to the captain, who
was talking to the first mate, while the latter was superintending the
getting of cargo on board.
"Do you want a hand, sir?"
"Well, that depends," the captain said; "I am still two or three hands
short, but they have promised to send me them this morning. Are you a
sailor?"
"No, sir; but I can row and sail an open boat, and am ready to make
myself useful. I want to work my passage out."
"You look an active young fellow," the captain said, "but I don't care
about taking a landsman only for the voyage out; I should have to ship
another hand in your place at New Orleans, and probably have to pay more
wages there than I could get one for here. Still, likely enough, they
may send me down at the last moment two or three hands who know no more
about it than you do, and may not be half so willing to learn as I
should judge you to be. What do you say, Ephraim; shall we take him?"
"He looks a likely sort," the mate said.
"Very well then, it's agreed; you can take off your coat and fall to
work at once; I will send down word to the office that I have shipped
you." Frank stripped off his coat and waistcoat, and stowed them, with
his portmanteau, out of the way, and then set to work with a will, the
whiteness of his shirt, and his general appearance, exciting some
jeering comments among the other men at work; but the activity and
strength which he showed soon astonished and silenced them.
By one o'clock the last bale of cargo was stowed, and the hatches put
on. The landsmen who had been employed went on shore, and Frank went
forward to the forecastle, with the men, to dinner.
"Not the sort of grub you have been accustomed to, lad," one of the men
said.
"I have eaten worse," Frank said carelessly, "and don't care if I never
eat better. How long do you suppose we shall be before we get to New
Orleans?"
"It all depends upon the wind," the sailor answered, "may be a month,
may be three. Are you going to leave us there?"
"Yes," Frank said, "I am only working my passage out."
"It's a roughish place is New Orleans," the sailor said; "the sort of
place where you want to have a knife or pistol ready at hand. Lor', I
have seen some rum doings there; it's a word and a blow, I can tell ye."
"Ah! well," Frank laughed, "I suppose I shall do as well as the rest."
The voice of the mate was now heard calling to all hands to prepare to
cast off. The men had hurried through their dinner, for they knew that
the time allowed them would be short, and began casting off hawsers,
coiling down ropes, and preparing for a start. The bell was ringing, and
the friends of the passengers were saying good-bye. The capstan was
manned, and the vessel moved slowly away from the quay.
Five minutes later she was at the dock gates; these swung open, and the
vessel slowly made her way through them, and was soon in the river.
As the men ran aloft to loosen the sails, Frank placed himself next to
the sailor who had spoken to him at dinner, and followed him up the
shrouds, and, imitating his actions, he was soon out on the yard hauling
away with the others. When the sails were all set he returned below.
"Wall done, youngster," the mate said; "I reckon you are about as spry
for a green hand as any I have come across; I had my eye on you, and
you'll do. You go on like that, and you will make a first-rate hand
afore long."
There was plenty of work to do as they went down the river. The sails
had to be braced round as the wind took them on different sides in the
winding reaches; the decks were sluiced down, to get rid of the first
coat of dirt which they had acquired in the docks; ropes had to be
coiled and tidied up, and the many articles lying loosely about the deck
to be put in their places and lashed in readiness for sea work. The tide
met them just as it was getting dark, and as the wind dropped, and was
not sufficiently strong to carry the ship against it, the anchor was
dropped a few miles below Gravesend.
The men were divided into two watches, but all were told that, with the
exception of two stationed as an anchor watch, they could turn in till
tide turned. Frank threw himself at once into the bunk which had been
allotted to him. He had not closed an eye the night before, and was worn
out by emotion and fatigue, and scarcely had he lain down than he was
sound asleep. He had been placed in the starboard watch, and slept till
he was roughly shaken at four o'clock in the morning.
"Get up, mate, your watch is called."
Frank leapt out and made his way on deck. The vessel had been now three
hours under weigh. She had passed the Nore, whose light shone brightly
over the stern.
"The wind is freshening a bit," one of the men said, "we shall be out
round the Foreland by dinner-time."
The voyage was an uneventful one; Frank escaped the first fight in which
new-comers generally have to take part before they settle down in their
new sphere. He was thoroughly good-tempered, and fully a match for any
of his messmates in chaff, and he soon became a favourite in the
fo'castle. He was always ready to take his share of the work, and was
soon as much at home on the yards as the rest. The change and the
newness of the life were very good for him; he was never alone, and had
no time to think or brood over his troubles, and he was almost sorry
when the end of the voyage approached.
"Not a lively-looking shore," the mate said to him as he leaned against
the bulwark, looking at the low banks of the river a few miles below New
Orleans. "No, even an American may confess that there ain't much beauty
about this river. It's a great river, and a mighty useful one, but it
ain't beautiful. Now, what are you thinking of doing when you get
ashore?"
"I was thinking to begin by getting employment on board a boat of some
sort. What I shall do afterwards of course I do not know; but if I can
earn my living on the water for a few months, till I have time to look
round and see what is best to be done, I shall be well satisfied. I have
got a few pounds, but I don't want to touch them; they will come in
useful if I want to move, or to buy a horse, or anything of that sort."
"You will do," the mate said. "You have shown yourself a right-down
sharp fellow on board this ship, and I expect you will make your way
whatever you try a hand at. I have taken a fancy to you, and should be
glad to do you a good turn if I can. I have been in and out of this port
for some years, and know Orleans pretty tidy, and I can tell you that
there ain't a port on this side of the water or the other where a fellow
can be put out of the way more promptly than here; there are parts of
New Orleans which, I tell you, are a sort of hell on earth.
"There are places you couldn't go into without some one picking a
quarrel with you afore you have been in there two minutes, and a quarrel
here means knives out afore you have time to think. On the other hand,
Orleans is a place where a steady industrious fellow, with his head
screwed on right, has a good chance of getting on. The trade up the
river is immense, and will be far greater than it is now; and there's
pretty well a continent to the west, with openings of all sorts, land
and cattle, houses and mining, and trade with Mexico. But I don't see as
you can do better than to follow out your own idea.
"I know a score of men here who own boats trading up the river, and the
first time I go ashore I will take you with me and put you in good
hands. The rate of pay ain't high, for it's looked on as easy work;
still, a few months at it will open your eyes and put you into the ways
of the country, and, once at home, I tell you there's money to be made
on the river, heaps of it, and when it's seen that you are steady, and
willing, and 'cute, you will find plenty who will give you a helping
hand. There's no greater place for loafers than New Orleans, and a chap
who will really work will soon make his mark."
Frank warmly thanked the mate for his offer. The moment the ship cast
anchor off the town a crowd of negroes came on board and unloaded her,
and the crew had comparatively little to do; the three or four
passengers who had come out in her went on shore at once, but it was not
until the third afternoon after her arrival that the mate was able to
leave the ship.
"Now, lad," he said to Frank, "jump into the boat along with me, and I
will see if I can't put you into the groove."
Keeping along the wharves for some distance, the mate presently entered
a small wooden office, telling Frank to wait outside.
On entering he accosted the only occupant of the place, a man of some
forty years of age, who was dressed entirely in white, and was sitting
smoking a huge cigar, with his chair tilted back and his feet on the
table.
"How are you, Ephraim?" he said, as the mate entered. "I saw your ship
had arrived. Had a good voyage?"
"First-class," the mate replied; "not very fast, but quiet and
comfortable," and he took a cigar from an open box on the table and
lighted it. "I haven't come round for a talk with you now, I have only
just come ashore for the first time; but I wanted to speak to you about
a young chap as came out with us. He has worked his passage out, and is
about the smartest young fellow I ever shipped, and has the makings of a
first-class seaman in him, but he doesn't care about stopping at sea.
He's of good family in the old country, as one can easily see. I expect
he has got into some scrape, and has had to make a bolt of it; however,
that's no business of mine. He's as strong as a horse, and as active as
a squirrel; he can handle an oar and sail a boat. I didn't like the
thought of his landing here and getting into bad hands, so I thought I
would come straight to you. He said what he wanted to do was to work on
the river, for a few months at any rate, until he got to know the place.
Now I know you have a dozen tugs and a score of barges, and I thought
you might set him on at once. He would make a good second hand on one of
your large boats. If it's but to oblige me, I wish you would put him on
board one with a sober, steady chap of a decent kind; as soon as he gets
to know the work and the river, I will guarantee that he will be fit to
take charge himself."
"That's easy enough done, Ephraim," the trader replied, "all except
finding the sober and steady decent man to put him under. However, I
will do my best. Have you got him here?"
"Yes, he is outside," Ephraim said; and rising, he went to the door and
called Frank in. "This is the hand I was speaking to you about, Mr.
Willcox."
"Well, young man," the trader said, "I hear you want a berth on board a
tug or flat. Which would you rather have?"
"I would prefer to be on a flat,--at any rate for a time, sir," Frank
said; "I am a pretty good hand at sailing or rowing, but I don't know
anything about steamboats."
"There's not much to learn in that," the trader said; "the work is
simply to keep the decks clean, to help to load and unload at each
landing-place, and to pole off in shallows. However, I will put you on
board a flat. The wages to begin with will be twenty dollars a month and
your keep, if that will suit you."
"That will do, sir, very well," Frank said. "When shall I come to work?"
"If you come here this time to-morrow you can go aboard at once. One of
the flats will go up the first thing in the morning."
"Thank you, sir, I will be here. I am greatly obliged to you, Mr.
Alderson, for your kind recommendation of me."
"I am glad to have put you into a berth," the mate said. "Now I should
recommend you to get on board again soon."
Frank strolled about the wharves for an hour or two, and then went on
board. Before going on shore the following day, the captain gave him a
certificate, saying that he had sailed in the _Mississippi_, and was a
good, willing, and reliable hand.
[Illustration: FRANK'S VISIT TO MR. HIRAM LITTLE'S OFFICE.]
"You may not intend to go to sea again, but if you should, this will get
you a better berth than if you had applied as a landsman. I am very
pleased with your conduct on board the ship, and I am only sorry you are
leaving us. I think it's a pity you don't stick to it, for it is clear
that you are well educated, and would be able to pass as a mate as soon
as you had been the requisite time at sea. However, you can fall back on
that if you don't get on as well as you expect on shore."
The mate said good-bye to him warmly.
"Your employer is one of the very best in the place," said he. "You must
not suppose he is in a small way because you see him in that little
office: he is one of the largest tug and flat owners in New Orleans. He
keeps his eye on his men, and will push you forward if he sees you
deserve it. He has the name of having the best of captains on the river,
and of being one of the best and most liberal of employers. But you must
not expect much in flat life, you will find the men rough as well as the
work."
"I shan't mind that," Frank said cheerfully; "our own bargemen on the
Thames are not the most polished of men."
"And, lad," the mate added, "I should advise you to hand over any money
you may have with you to Mr. Willcox; the less money you have in your
pockets the better. You have no occasion for it on the river, and there
are loafers hanging about at every landing who would think nothing of
knocking a man on the head if they thought he had got fifty dollars in
his pocket."
Frank promised to take his advice, and, with a hearty farewell to the
mate, and a cordial one to his late shipmates, he put his portmanteau
in the boat and was rowed ashore.
"Oh, here you are," Mr. Willcox said, as he entered; "just give a call
to that man you see outside."
Before doing so, Frank handed over his twenty sovereigns to the trader,
asking him to keep them for him, and then went to the door. On a log
close by a tall, gaunt man was sitting smoking a short pipe. Frank asked
him to step in.
"Hiram," the trader said, "this is the young Britisher who is going as
your second hand. I have good accounts of him as a sailor, so you won't
have to teach him that part of the business. Of course he is new to the
river and its ways."
"I will put him through," the man said, "and will teach him as much as I
knows myself if he cares to learn."
"There is no one knows the river better, Hiram; and, as you know, I
would have given you the command of a steamer long ago if you would have
taken it."
"No, sir," the man said emphatically, "not for Hiram Little. I have been
on board a flat all my days, and am not going to be hurried along in one
of them puffing things. They have their uses, I am ready enough to
allow, when the current is swift and the wind light; I am glad enough of
a cast now and then, but to be always in a bustle and flurry is more
than I could stand. Come along, youngster, with your sack; the boat is a
quarter of a mile down."
Taking up his portmanteau, Frank followed his conductor, who with long
strides led the way along the wharf. Not a word was spoken till they
reached the side of the boat. This was not a flat such as now are in
general use, but a large boat some forty feet in length by fourteen
wide, almost flat-bottomed, and capable of carrying a cargo of eight or
ten tons of goods. In the stern was a little cabin some eight feet long
for the captain and his mate. In front was a similar structure for the
four negroes who formed the crew.
She carried one mast, with a large lug-sail. She had four sweeps, but
these were seldom used. When the wind was fair she ran before it, when
it was foul the mast was lowered; if it fell calm when they were coming
down the stream they drifted with it, if when going up, they either
anchored or poled her along in the back waters close inshore, or made
their way up the numerous channels where the stream flowed sluggishly,
or tied on behind a tug if one happened to come along.
Their principal work was to carry up supplies to the various plantations
along the banks, to trade with the villages, and to bring down produce
to New Orleans; for the stopping-places of the steamers were at wide
distances apart, and the number of steamers themselves very small in
comparison with those now afloat on the great river. At times they made
longer journeys, going up as far as St. Louis; but in that case they
were generally, as Frank afterwards learned, towed up the whole
distance.
"Hi! Pete, shove that plank ashore," Hiram shouted, and a negro at once
showed his head above a scuttle in the bow of the boat, and then
emerging, pushed a plank across the fifteen feet of water which
intervened between the flat and the wharf.
"That's your first lesson, young man," Hiram said. "Never on no account
lay your craft close alongside; thar's river thieves at these landings
as would empty half the cargo if you left the boat for ten minutes, if
they could step aboard, and these niggers are always asleep the minute
after you take your eyes off them. So, whether you have got anything
aboard or not, stick to the rule and moor her a bit off the wharf. It's
only the trouble of dropping the grapnel over on the outside in addition
to the hawser ashore, and then there's never no trouble when you get
back and have to report as how you have lost some of the bales. It ain't
as how we carry up many things as would pay for taking; soft goods for
the stores up the river mostly goes by steamer, but them as ain't
hurried, and likes to keep their dollars in their pockets, has their
goods up by flats. I have got ten hogsheads of sugar, twenty-four crates
of hardware, some barrels of molasses, and forty casks of spirits on
board, eighty kegs of nails and a ton or two of rice and flour. We
reckon to go up light, and I don't care to have the flat more nor
half-full, for when the river's low and the wind light the less we have
on board the better. Now Pete, let's have tea as soon as may be."
By this time they had entered the cabin at the stern of the boat. It was
only about five feet high, but was large and roomy, and Frank saw with
pleasure that it was neat and clean, and was an abode infinitely
preferable to the forecastle of the _Mississippi_.
"Now, lad, that's your side, and this is mine; that's your bunk. I am
given to tidy ways, having all my life lived in small places, and I hope
as you will fall into my ways; I keeps the cabin tidy myself, and Pete
never comes aft here except to bring the food and take it away again; I
can't a-bear niggers messing about a place. Victuals of all sorts is
provided. You can do as you like about liquor. I keeps a keg of rum on
board, and I likes my glass at night; if you likes to join me at that
you can pay for half the keg, it has not been broached yet. If you want
to drink more nor two glasses a night, ye had best get in yer own stock;
if ye don't want to touch it at all, just leave it."
Frank said he liked a glass of grog at night, and should be glad to join
in the cask, and that he would do his best to keep his side of the cabin
as tidy as the other. In a few minutes the negro brought in the meal,
which consisted of a steak fried with onions, followed by a large bowl
of oatmeal, with a jug of molasses, and the whole was washed down with
tea.
"The stream does not seem to run very rapidly," Frank said, as he and
his companion, having lit their pipes, sat down on the deck above.
"It varies," Hiram replied; "sometimes it's sluggish, as you see it
here, sometimes it runs like a mill-stream. The art of sailing here is
to know the river; for what with its back currents and its eddies, its
channels behind islands and its sandbanks, one who knows it can manage
to make his way up, while one who didn't know would be drifting backward
instead of getting forward. That's what you have got to learn.
Fortunately the wind generally blows up the stream; when it don't it's a
case of down anchor. There are places where one can hardly get along
unless the wind happens to be unusually strong, and there I generally
get a tow. The boss has got about twenty steamers on the river, so we
don't generally have to wait many hours before one comes along. The tugs
is gradually doing away with sailing boats, and in time there won't be
many of our kind of craft left; but they are useful, you see, for small
places where the steamers don't stop, and for the rivers which run into
the Mississippi."
The next morning at daybreak the sail was hoisted, the hawsers thrown
off from the shore, and the flat made her way up the river. Frank was
surprised to see how fast she sailed, although the wind was but light.
The work was easy, for the wind was steady and they seldom sailed at
night, the wind generally dropping at sundown. They touched at numerous
little settlements, and gradually got rid of the cargo with which they
had started.
Sometimes they left the main river and sailed for many miles by narrow
channels, where the current, for the most part, was almost
imperceptible. They were more than a month from the time they started
before they reached the spot at which they were to take in the cargo for
their return voyage. The flat was then loaded up with grain, which was
put in in bulk and covered with tarpaulin; the boat was now laden down
nearly to the water's edge.
The downward voyage differed widely from that up the river; the sail was
now seldom used, and instead of skirting the shores they kept in
mid-channel, from time to time directing the boat's course by the use of
the sweeps. The moon was nearly full when they started, and they
continued their voyage by night as well as day. Hiram and Frank took it
by turns to be on watch; but the former was seldom down below, except on
the rare occasions when the river was free from shoals.
Frank had by this time learned by the ripples on the water to detect the
shallows, and could direct the course without assistance; but as soon as
the splash of oars was heard on the water, Hiram was sure to appear on
deck, however short the time since he had retired to rest.
"You are seeing the river at its best," he was saying one day. "It is
about half-full now; when the water's low, the channel where we can pass
loaded is often only fifty yards wide, with the water running through it
like a sluice. When the water is in flood there is no fear of shoals,
but you have got to look about, for it is full of floating trees and
logs; when these get stuck we call them snags, and if you were to run on
one of them the chances are it would knock a hole as big as a cask in
her bottom, and down you would go in two or three minutes."
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE MISSISSIPPI.
"WE are going to have a change of weather, I reckon," Hiram said one
afternoon as they were drifting down the stream during their second
voyage. "You have been lucky since we started, but we are going to have
a change at last; and I can tell you when it blows here it's a caution.
They have been having a lot of rain up the country, for the river has
been rising regular for the last ten days. We had best make fast for the
night, and the sooner we does it the better, for the wind is getting up
fast and the rain is just a-going to begin."
In a quarter of an hour the boat was moored to a great tree at the lower
end of an island.
"We shall be snug here," he said, "and out of the way of the drift that
will be coming down presently. You can turn in and take a long spell of
sleep to-night, for sometimes those storms last for days when they come
on this time of year, and you will see there will be a sea on that the
boat could hardly live in. I wish we had stopped two hours ago; there
was a creek where we could have run her in and been snug all through it,
but I didn't think it was coming up so quick, and it's too far on to
the next place to risk it; however, I expect we shall do very well
here."
In another half-hour the gale burst upon them furiously, and Frank
congratulated himself that the boat was snugly moored. The thick muddy
water of the river was speedily lashed into angry waves; the rain came
down in torrents, and although the left-hand bank was but a quarter of a
mile distant it was soon lost to view. Frank was glad to leave the deck
and crawl into the little cabin, and sit down to a hot meal which the
negro cook had prepared.
"Better here than outside, my lad," Hiram said. "I can go as wet as any
man if need be, but I like to keep a dry jacket when I can. The wind is
just howling outside. I reckon this is going to be a bigger storm nor
ordinary, and I have seen some biggish storms on the Mississippi too. I
have had some narrer escapes of it, I can tell you, special in the days
before there was nary a tug on the river, and we had to row or pole all
the way up; besides there ain't so many trees brought down as there used
to be in a flood, seeing as the country is getting more and more cleared
every day.
"I reckon the time will come when you will be able to go up either the
Mississippi or Missouri to the upper waters without seeing a tree
drifting down, and when there won't be a snag in their beds. I mind the
time when the snags were ten times worse than they is now. I mind once
we ran on one of the darned things in pretty nigh as wild a night as
this is going to be. I had six hands along with me, and we wanted to get
down, 'cause we knew the old man would have a cargo ready for us, and we
wanted a run of a day or two on shore at Orleans before we started up
again, so we held on. The wind was higher than we reckoned on, and we
was just saying we should have done better to tie up, when there was a
crash. I thought at first that she would have gone over with the shock,
but she didn't--not that it would have made much odds, for there was a
snag through her bottom, and the water pouring in like a sluice. It was
darkish, but we could make out there was some trees a boat's-length or
two ahead which had been caught as they rolled down by another snag, and
hung there. The boat didn't float more than a minute after she struck,
and then we were all in the river, those who couldn't swim gripping hold
of the oars and poles; half a minute and we were all clinging to the
boughs, and hoisting ourselves as well as might be clear of the water.
"I tell you, lad, that was a night. It wasn't that we was drenched to
the skin with the rain pouring down, and the wind cutting through
us--that kind of thing comes natural to a boatman--but it was the
oncertainty of the thing. The trees moved and swayed with the waves and
current; the flood we knew was rising still, and any moment they might
break away from the snag and go whirling along, over and over, down the
river. Even if they didn't break away of theirselves, another tree might
drive down on us, and if it did, the chances was strong as the hull
affair would break loose.
"All that night and all next day we hung on, and then the wind went down
a bit, and a nigger who had made us out from the shore came off in a
dug-out and took us ashore in two trips. That war a close shave. The
wind was northerly and bitter cold, and I don't believe as we could have
hung on another night more nor that. Next morning, when we turned out
from the nigger's hut to have a look round, there wasn't no sign of them
thar trees, they had just gone down the river in the night. Yes, I have
had a good many narrow shaves of it, but I do think as that war the
narrowest."
"Well, I am heartily glad," Frank said, "that we are tied safely up, out
of the way of floating trees, snags, or anything of the kind. I always
like hearing the wind when I am snug, and I shall sleep sound knowing
that I am not going to hear your shout of 'Watch on deck' in my ear."
In spite of the howling of the gale Frank slept soundly. But he could
scarcely believe that it was broad daylight when he awoke; the light was
dim and leaden, and when he went out from the cabin he was startled at
the aspect of the river. The waves had risen until it resembled an angry
sea, the yellow masses of water being tipped with foam; the clouds hung
so low that they almost touched the top of the trees; the rain was still
falling, and the drops almost hurt from the violence with which they
were driven by the wind. The river had risen considerably during the
night, and the lower end of the island was already submerged; boughs of
trees and driftwood were hurrying along with the stream, and more than
one great tree passed, now lifting an arm high in the air, now almost
hidden in the waves, as it turned over and over in its rapid course.
Frank felt glad indeed that the boat lay in comparatively sheltered
waters, though even here the swell caused her at times to roll
violently.
"What do you think of it, lad?" Hiram, who had risen some time before
Frank, asked.
"It is a wonderfully wild scene," Frank said enthusiastically, "a grand
scene! I should not have had an idea that such a sea could have got up
on any river. Look at that great tree rolling down, it looks as if it
was wrestling for life."
"The wrestle is over, lad, there ain't no more life for that tree; it
will just drift along till it either catches on a sandbank and settles
down as a snag, or it will drift down to the mouth of the Mississippi,
and may be help to choke up some of the shallow channels, or it may
chance to strike the deep channel, and go away right out into the Gulf
of Florida, and then the barnacles will get hold of it, and it will
drift and drift till at last it will get heavier than the water, and
then down it will go to the bottom and lie there till there ain't no
more left of it. No, lad, there ain't no more life for that tree."
"May be it will wash ashore near the city, or some plantation," Frank
said, "and be hauled up and cut into timber, or perhaps into firewood.
After all, the useful life of a tree begins with its fall."
"Right you are, lad; yes, that might happen, and I am glad you put it in
my mind, for somehow I have always had a sorter pity for a tree when I
see it sweeping down in a flood like this. Somehow it's like looking at
a drowned man; but, as you say, there's a chance of its getting through
it and coming to be of use after all, and what can a tree wish better
than that? But we had best be hauling the boat up to the tree and
shifting the rope up the trunk a bit; it's just level with the water
now, and was nigh eight feet above when we tied it yesterday. I tell you
if this goes on there will be some big floods, for it will try the
levees, and if they go there ain't no saying what damage may be done in
the plantations."
All day the wind blew with unabated fury, and when evening came on
Frank thought that it was increasing rather than diminishing in force.
"Let's have a glass of grog and tumble in, my lad," Hiram said, "it
gives one the dismals to listen to the wind." They had scarcely wrapped
themselves in their blankets when the boat swayed as if struck by an
even stronger blast than usual; then there was a sudden crash, which
rose even above the howling of the gale.
"What's that?" Frank exclaimed, sitting up.
"It's the tree," Hiram began; but while the words were in his mouth
there was a shock and a crash, the roof of the little cabin was stove
in, and the boat heeled over until they thought it was going to capsize.
Frank was thrown on to the floor with the violence of the shock, but
speedily gained his feet.
"What has happened?" he exclaimed.
"The tree has gone," Hiram said; "I have been looking at it all the
afternoon, but I didn't want to scare you by telling you as I thought it
might go. It's lucky it didn't fall directly on us, or it would have
knocked the boat into pieces. The door is jammed. Get hold of that
hatchet, lad, and make a shift to get your head out to look round and
see what we are doing. Do you hear them niggers holloaing like so many
tom-cats? What good do they suppose that will do?"
"I can't see anything," Frank said when he looked out; "it's pitch dark.
I will make this hole a bit bigger, and then I will take the lantern and
crawl forward and see what has become of the blacks. I am afraid the
tree has stove the boat in: look at the water coming up through the
float-boards."
"Ay, I expect she is smashed somewhere; it could hardly be otherwise; I
reckon this is going to be about as bad a job as the one I was telling
you about. Here, lad, put this bottle of rum into your jacket and this
loaf of bread; I will take this here chunk of cold beef; like enough we
may want 'em afore we are done."
When Frank had enlarged the hole sufficiently to allow his body to pass
through, he put the lantern through and then crawled out. He was in a
tangle of branches and leaves. The head-rope was a long one; the tree
had fallen directly towards them, and the boat was, as far as Frank
could see, wedged in between the branches, which forked some forty feet
above the roots; a cross branch had stove in the cabin top, and another
rested across the scuttle of the cabin used by the negroes.
"Hand me the axe, sharp, Hiram," he said; "the niggers can't get out,
and our bow isn't a foot out of water."
Hiram handed up the axe, seized another, and with a great effort
squeezed himself through the hole and joined Frank in the fore-part of
the boat, which was waist-deep in water.
"Never mind the branch, lad, that will take too long to cut through, and
another two or three minutes will do their business; here, rip off two
or three of those planks, that will be the quickest way."
Although impeded in their work by the network of boughs, they speedily
got off two or three planks and hauled up the frightened negroes. It was
but just in time, for there were but a few inches between the water and
the top of the low cabin.
"Shut your mouths and drop that howling," Hiram said, "and grip hold of
the tree; the boat will sink under our feet in another minute. Stick to
your lantern, lad, a light is a comfort anyhow; I'll fetch another from
the cabin, and some candles; I know just where they are, and can feel
them in the water."
In a minute he rejoined Frank, who was sitting astride of one of the
branches.
"That's a bit of luck," he said; "the candles are dry. There ain't more
than two feet of water in her aft."
Three or four minutes passed, and the boat still lay beneath their feet,
sinking, apparently, no lower. "I will look round again," Hiram said;
"it seems to me as she has got jammed, and won't go any lower."
Examining the boat, he found that it was so; she was so completely
wedged among the branches that she could sink no lower.
"It's all right," he said joyously. "Jump down, all of you, and lend a
hand and unreeve the halliards from the mast and bind her as tight as
you can to the branches; pass the ropes under the thwarts. Make haste
before she shakes herself free." For the tree, now well clear of the
shelter of the land, was swaying heavily.
The work was soon done, and the boat securely fastened to the tree.
"How is it the tree lies steady without rolling over and over, Hiram?"
Frank asked, after they paused on the completion of the work.
"I reckon it's the boat as keeps it steady, lad. As long as she lies
here she is no weight, but she would be a big weight to lift out of
water, and I reckon she keeps the whole affair steady. It couldn't be
better if we had planned it. All these boughs break the force of the
waves, and keep off a good bit of the wind too; we ain't going to do
badly after all."
"Pete, get me that half-bottle of rum from my locker and a tin mug. That
is right. Now here is a good strong tot each for you to make your faces
black again; you were white with fear when we got you out of that cabin,
and I don't blame you; I should have been in just as bad a fright myself
if I had been there, though I shouldn't have made such a noise over it.
Still, one can't expect men of one colour to have the same ways as those
of another, and I am bound to say that if the boat had gone down your
boss would have lost four good pieces of property. Feel more
comfortable--eh?"
The negroes grinned assent. Easily cast down, their spirits were as
easily raised, and seeing that the white men appeared to consider that
there was no urgent danger, they soon plucked up their courage.
"I think," Frank said, "the best thing will be to manage to get the
cabin door open. We can put a tarpaulin over the hole in the roof, and
we shall then have a shelter we can go into; the water is not over the
lockers, but I shouldn't like to go in until we get the door open. If
this tree did take it into its head to turn round, it would be awkward
if there were two or three of us in there, with only that hole to
scramble through."
"You are about right, lad; it will be a sight more comfortable than
sitting here, for what with the rain and the splashing up of this broken
water one might as well be under a pump."
The axes were called into requisition again, for the door was jammed too
firmly to be moved.
"Chop it up, and shove the pieces under the tarpaulin, Sam; they will
get a bit drier there, and we may want them for a fire presently; there
is no saying how long we may be in this here floating forest. That's
right. Now, hang one of them lanterns up in the cabin. That's not so
bad. Now, lad, our clothes-bags are all right on these hooks. I am just
going to rig myself up in a dry shirt and jacket, and advise you to do
the same; we may as well have the upper half dry if we must be wet
below."
Frank was glad to follow Hiram's example, and a dry flannel shirt made
him feel thoroughly warm and comfortable. He handed a shirt to each of
the negroes, and the whole party, clustered in the little cabin, were
soon comparatively warm and cheerful, in spite of the water, which came
up to their knees, and when the boat rose on a wave, swashed up over the
locker on which they were sitting. A supply of dry tobacco and some
pipes were produced by Hiram, and the little cabin was soon thick with
smoke.
"Taking it altogether," Hiram said, "I regard this as about the queerest
sarcumstance that ever happened to me; it was just a thousand to one
that tree would have smashed us up and sunk us then and thar. It was
another thousand to one that when we were staved in we shouldn't have
got fixed so that the boat couldn't sink; if any one had told it me as a
yarn I should not have believed it."
"It has indeed been a wonderful escape," Frank said, "and I think now
that we should be ungrateful indeed if every one of us did not fervently
thank God for having preserved us."
"Right you are, lad; praying ain't much in my way--not regular praying;
but we men as lives a life like this, and knows that at any moment a
snag may go through the boat's bottom, thinks of these things at times,
and knows that our lives are in God's hands. It ain't in nature to go
up and down this broad river, special at night, when the stars are
shining overhead, and the dark woods are as quiet as death, and there
ain't no sound to be heard but the lap of the water against the bow for
a man not to have serious thoughts. It ain't our way to talk about it. I
think we try to do our duty by our employers, and if a mate is laid up,
he need never fear getting on a shoal for want of a helping hand; and
when our time comes, I fancy as there ain't many of us as is afeared of
death, or feels very bad about the account they say we have got to
render arterwards. It's different with the niggers; it's their way to be
singing hymns and having prayer-meetings, and such like. There is some
as is agin this, and says it gives 'em notions, and sets them agin their
masters; but I don't see it: it pleases 'em, and it hurts no one; it's
just the difference of ways. I expect it comes to the same in the end;
leastways, I have seen many a wreck in this here river, when whites and
blacks have been a-looking death in the face together, and sartin the
white man, even if he has been a hard man, ain't no more afraid to die
than the black, generally just the contrary. That's my notion of
things."
Frank nodded, and for a time there was silence in the cabin.
"How long are we likely to be in this fix?" Frank asked presently.
"Thar ain't no saying; supposing we don't bring up agin a snag--which
the Lord forbid, for like, enough, the tree would shift its position,
and we should find ourselves bottom upwards if we did--we may drift on
for days and days. Still, we shall be safe to make ourselves seen as
soon as the weather clears, and there are boats out again; we have only
got to light a fire of wet wood to call their attention. I don't expect
this here gale will last much longer; after another day it ought to
begin to blow itself out. As long as nothing happens to this tree, and
the boat keeps fast where it is, there ain't nothing to make ourselves
uncomfortable about. We'd best have a look at them lashings; I tell you,
there is a tidy strain on them."
Examining the ropes carefully, they found some of them were already
chafed, and, dragging out a piece of wet canvas from the lockers, they
cut it into strips and lashed it round the ropes at the points where
they were chafing. The strain was indeed very heavy, for the tree and
the waterlogged boat rose but little with the waves, and the bow was
submerged deeply every time a wave passed them, the gunwale being at no
time more than a few inches out of water. Additional lashings were put
on, and then Hiram and Frank returned to the cabin, and the latter dozed
away the hours till morning, as did the negroes, Hiram remaining wide
awake and watchful, and going out from time to time to look at the
lashings. As soon as day broke Frank roused himself and went out; Hiram
was just descending from one of the boughs.
"I have had a look round," he said; "I don't think it's blowing quite so
hard, but thar ain't much change yet. It ain't not to say a cheerful kind
of lookout."
Frank climbed up to take a view for himself, but he was glad to return
very quickly to the shelter of the cabin. Overhead was a canopy of low
grey cloud; around, a curtain of driving rain; below, a chaos of
white-headed waves. The day passed slowly, and with little change. Sam
found in the fore-part of the boat the iron plate on which he built his
fire. They fixed this on the roof of the cabin, fastened a tarpaulin
across the boughs so as to shelter it from the rain and drift, and
then, with some difficulty, managed to make a fire. Some hot coffee was
first prepared, and a frying-pan was then put on and filled with slices
of pork. The flour was wet, but Sam made some flat cakes of the wet
dough, and placed them in the fat to fry when the pork was done.
"Not a bad meal that," Hiram said, when he had finished, "for a floating
forest."
The negroes had now completely recovered from the effects of their
fright and wetting, and their spirits, as usual, found vent in merry
choruses.
"Just like children, ain't they?" Hiram said, as he and Frank re-entered
the cabin, while the negroes continued to feast overhead, "crying one
moment and laughing the next. But I have known some good uns among them
too, as good mates to work with as a man could want, and as good grit as
a white man." Another meal, later in the afternoon, alone broke the
monotony of the day. The aspect of the weather was unchanged at
nightfall, but Hiram asserted that the wind had certainly gone down, and
that in the morning there would probably be a break in the weather. They
smoked for some time, and then the negroes dozed off, with their chins
on their chests; and Frank was about to make an effort to do the same,
when Hiram, who had been going in and out several times, said suddenly,
"I reckon we are out of the main stream; don't you feel the difference?"
Now that his attention was called to it, Frank wondered that he had not
noticed it before. The waves were no longer washing over the fore-part
of the boat, and the sluggish efforts of the tree and boat to rise and
fall with the water had ceased. He was still more struck, when he went
outside, by the comparative silence. The wind still whistled overhead
and swayed the branches, but the hiss and rustle of the water had
ceased.
"We are out of the main stream, that's sartin," Hiram said, "though
where we are is more nor I can tell till we get daylight."
Frank took the lantern and climbed up the bough which served as a
lookout. It was pitch dark outside, and the surface of the water was no
longer broken by white heads.
"Yes, we are certainly out of the main river, Hiram, and in behind some
big islands. Where do you think it could be?"
"I reckon, lad, we are somewhere down near the mouth of the Arkansas.
The stream has been running mighty strong for the last two days, and the
wind, catching all these branches, must have helped us along a good bit.
I reekon we can't be far away from the Arkansas. It's a bad stroke of
luck drifting in here; we may expect to get hung up somewhere, and we
shall be in a nice fix then, out of sight of boats going up and down,
and with miles and miles of swamp stretching back from the shore.
However, it will be time to think of that to-morrow. There ain't nothing
for us to do; just lend us a hand, and we will get this iron plate off
the roof. The tarpaulin keeps off the rain, and I will fetch a couple of
blankets, and we can stretch ourselves out here; I despise going to
sleep sitting up."
Frank was sound asleep in a few minutes. He had a confused notion of
feeling a slight jerking motion, and of hearing Hiram say, "There, she
is anchored"; but he did not suffer this to rouse him, and, dropping
off, slept soundly till morning. At the first stir Hiram made he was
awake.
"We have had a goodish spell of sleep, I reckon, lad, and I feel all the
better for having had my legs stretched out straight."
"So do I, ever so much; the wind seems to have gone quite down, and it
has stopped raining."
"We shall have the sun up soon."
Frank was soon up in the lookout.
"I can see trees on both sides of us, but I can make out nothing more
than that; there's a mist hanging over them, though it's clear enough on
the water. We are not moving."
"I could have told you that," Hiram said, "didn't we get fast on
something before we went to sleep last night?"
"Oh, I forgot about that; I was just off when you spoke, and didn't
quite take it in. We are quite out of the current; the water is moving
very sluggishly past us."
"So much the worse, lad; that's just what I fancied. We have got blown
out of the stream, and got in behind some of the islands, and are
perhaps at the mouth of one of the loops where there ain't no stream to
speak of; useful enough they are when you are making your way up-stream,
but no-account places to get stuck in. Now you darkeys below there, wake
up, and let's have some food; you will soon have the sun up to warm you
and dry your clothes a bit. By the time we have had our breakfast," he
went on to Frank, "the mist will have lifted, and we shall have some
chance of seeing where we have been cast away, and can talk over what's
the best thing to be done in this here business."
The iron plate was replaced on the cabin, the fire was lit, and coffee
and fried bacon were soon ready. The first sparkle of the sun through
the leaves brought a shout of delight from the negroes, and directly the
meal was over they cut away some of the small branches and let the sun
stream in on to the roof of the cabin.
"That's enough, boys," Hiram said; "by midday we shall be glad of the
shade. Now, let you and I light our pipes, lad, and take a survey, and
then talk this job over."
On looking round, they found that the passage, or creek, in which they
were was some eighty yards wide; ahead it seemed to narrow; behind them,
a bend shut out the view a quarter of a mile away.
"That's just what I expected. You see we have drove in here, and there's
been just current enough to drift us on till the lower branches touched
the bottom or caught in a snag; the water ain't flowing half a mile an
hour now, and I reckon when the water begins to drop, which will be in a
few days, if it holds fine, there won't be no current to speak of."
"But we are not going to stay here a few days, are we, Hiram?"
"Well, lad, I ain't no particular wish to stay here no time at all, if
you will just pint out the way for us to be moving on."
"Well, we could all swim ashore," Frank said; "the distance is nothing,
and all the blacks swim."
"And how fur do you reckon the shore to be, lad?"
"About forty yards," Frank said.
"I reckon it to be miles, lad--twenty, perhaps, or forty for aught I
know."
Frank looked at his companion in surprise.
"Yes, that is about it, lad. Don't you see them trees are all growing
out by the water, and what looks to you like low bush is just the top of
the underwood. The river, I reckon, must have riz twenty feet, and all
this low land is under water. As I told you, we are near the mouth of
the Arkansas, and for miles and miles the country ain't much better than
a swamp at the best of times. You can swim to them trees, and roost up
in the branches, if the fancy takes yer, and may be we may decide that's
the best thing to do, when we have talked it over; but as to getting to
land, you may put that notion out of your head altogether. I told you,
lad, last night, I didn't like the lookout, and I don't like it a bit
better this morning, except that I look to be dry and comfortable in
another hour. What's to come after that I don't quite see."
Frank was silent. The prospect, now that he understood it, was
unpleasant indeed. There they were with a disabled and waterlogged boat,
in the middle of a district submerged for many miles, and surrounded
beyond that by fever-stricken swamps, while the prospect of any craft
happening to come along was remote indeed. For some minutes he smoked
his pipe in silence.
"You consider it impossible for us to make our escape through the wood."
"Just unpossible, lad. We might make our way from tree to tree, like a
party of monkeys, but we should get to creeks where we couldn't cross;
we should be half our time swimming. We could take no food to speak of
with us; we should get lost in the swamps, if ever we got through the
forest. No, lad; my present idea is it is unpossible, though, if we
detarmines at last there ain't nothing else for us to do but to try for
it, Hiram Little ain't the man to die without making a hard fight for
his life; but I tell you, lad, I looks on it as unpossible. You have
been on these banks with me, and you know how thick the trees and bushes
grow, so that a snake could hardly make his way through them. When the
river is at her level the ground ain't about a foot or two out of water,
and when the river falls--and it mayn't fall to its level for weeks--it
will just be a swamp of mud."
[Illustration: A FLOOD ON THE MISSISSIPPI.]
"Well, in that case," Frank said, "it seems to me that our only chance
is to repair the boat."
"That's just my idee, young fellow. There is a biggish hole on each
side, the ribs are smashed in, and a lot of damage is done, but we could
make a shift to mend it if we could get her ashore; but there ain't no
shore to get her to, that's the mischief of it; besides, here we are
stuck, and if we were to cut away the tree to loose her she would go
straight to the bottom."
"Yes, we mustn't cut her loose before we are alongside something. My
idea is that if we first of all cut off all the boughs that are above
us, close to the trunk, that will make a good deal of difference in the
weight, and we should float higher. Then, with hatchet and saw, we must
get rid of those below, taking a rope first to the trees and hauling her
closer and closer alongside them as we get rid of the weight, till at
last there is only the trunk and these two great arms that have nipped
her. I think that way we might get alongside the trees."
"I reckon we might, lad. Yes, I don't see much difficulty about that.
And what shall we do when we get there?"
"I should get under a big tree, like that one over there, with that
great arm stretching over the stream. We've got plenty of ropes, and
I should fasten them from her bow and stern, and from her thwarts, tight
to that arm overhead. When I got her fixed, I would chop away one of
these arms that grip her, and let her float free. We have no tackle that
would be of any use in hoisting her, but if we take the plug out of her
bottom, she will empty as the river sinks, and hang there. Once she is
in the air there will be no difficulty in patching her up."
"That's a capital idee, young fellow," Hiram exclaimed, giving Frank a
mighty pat on the shoulder. "I do believe it is to be done that way. I
tell you, I did not see my way out of this fix nohow, but you have hit
upon it, by gosh! Here, you darkies, get them axes and saws out of the
cabin, and clear away this forest."
An hour's work cleared away all the wood above water. The sun was by
this time well above the trees; the negroes woke up to life and
cheerfulness in its warmth, and worked vigorously.
"Before we do anything more," Frank said, "I will swim with a light line
to that tree, and then haul the tow-rope after me, and make it fast to
it; it is possible that when we cut away some of the other boughs the
whole affair may turn over and sink, but if the tow-rope is fast we may
be able to drag it alongside."
When the rope was attached to the tree, they proceeded with their work.
The two great arms were chopped through just beyond the point at which
the boat was wedged, thus getting rid of the whole of the upper part of
the tree.
"She's free now," Hiram said. "Stand in the middle of the boat, you
boys; I can feel that a very little would sway her over now."
The bow sank some inches, and fully half the boat was submerged.
"Now, you and I will get out at this end of the trunk, lad, and tow her
in, stern foremost."
They got within ten yards of the tree before she again stuck, and it
took them some hours' work to cut away the branch which projected under
water; but at last this was done, and the boat was placed in position
under the arm of the great tree they had pitched upon, and a number of
ropes fastened firmly to the arm.
"Now we will have some dinner," Hiram said; "and while Pete is cooking
it we will get ashore with the saw and cut the heads off some of these
small trees, and fasten them to this trunk, so as to make a sort of raft
that we can put all these tubs on. The ropes would never hold her with
her cargo on board. I reckon some of the sugar is spoilt; but the boss
always has good casks, and may be there ain't much damage done. The rum
is right enough, and I reckon there won't be much spoilt except them
bales of calico."
They worked hard, but it was late in the evening before the raft was
formed and the cargo all shifted into it.
"Now, we will just chop off this arm and free her," Hiram said, "and
then we can stretch ourselves out for the night. We have done a tidy
day's work, I reckon, and have arned our sleep."
The arm was chopped through, and the boat was freed from the tree which
had, in the first place, so nearly destroyed it, but which, in the end,
had proved their means of safety. The raft was fastened alongside by a
rope, and the negroes betook themselves to it for the night, while the
two white men, as before, lay down to sleep on the cabin-top.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VIII.
STARTING FOR THE WEST.
THE next morning they found, to their satisfaction, that the river had
sunk nearly a foot. The boat had risen considerably when the cargo had
been removed the evening before, and the ropes overhead had been
proportionately tightened, so that she now hung so high that the rents
were well out of water, and they were able at once to set about the work
of repair. There were tools on board, for during their prolonged trips
it was often necessary to execute repairs of one kind or other. The
flooring-boards were utilised for the repairs, and by evening the holes
were closed effectually.
The next day the work was strengthened by additional ribs and stringers,
a coat of pitch was put on outside and in, and Hiram pronounced the work
complete. From time to time the ropes had been loosened as the river
continued to fall, although less rapidly, and it was thought well not to
put too great a strain upon them. The next morning the plug was again
driven into the bottom of the boat, and they set to work to pump and
bale her out, and then shifted the cargo back again from the raft. This
was not a long job, and at night, after a great washing-up of the
cabins, to get rid of the mud that had been left there, they had the
satisfaction of taking possession of their old quarters.
"Well, lad," Hiram said, when they lighted their pipes after supper, "I
never thought we were coming so well out of that job. With plenty of
rice and sugar, not to speak of rum, on board, I didn't expect we war
going to starve, but I thought we might have been weeks and weeks--ay,
months, may be--before any one came along, and the thought as came into
my mind was as we should have to make a raft and pole along till we got
out into the river again. However, here we are, with the boat not much
the worse, and everything on board ready for a start in the morning; and
it's thanks to you as we have done it, for I am free to say as I don't
think as I should have hit on this plan as we have carried out. You are
a good mate to work with, lad, and no mistake. I don't wish never to get
a better. It's a pity ye don't mean to stick to it for good, for I can
swar that you would make one of the best hands on the Mississippi, in
time."
The journey down the river was continued next morning. At the first
place they stopped at they heard reports of widespread damage, of great
tracts submerged, and of danger to life; the river was still at full
flood, although it had fallen two feet from its highest level, and the
next ten days were spent in rescuing the unfortunate people from the
tops of the houses, trees, and patches of rising ground on which they
had taken refuge. Then, having done all they were able, and the river
having now fallen nearly to its average level, they continued their
voyage down to New Orleans.
Hiram, in his report of the voyage to his employer, spoke in high terms
of Frank's conduct, and ascribed to his quickness of invention their
escape from what seemed likely to be an almost endless detention.
"But I am afraid he has made his last v'yage with me," he said; "he is
talking of striking out across the plains to Californy. There was a good
talk of gold thar before we started; and last night, after we came in,
and went in for a drink and to hear the news, there didn't seem nothing
else to talk about. The young chap was asking all sorts of questions,
and I expect he's off; and I don't know as I blames him. He's the sort
of fellow to get on. He has plenty of grit; he's strong and active now,
and in a couple of years he will widen out and make a very big man. He's
had a first-rate edication--he don't talk about it, but one would be
blind not to see that--he will make his way wherever he goes, and I
don't blame him for striking out from the river. He likes the river,
too; but it ain't the place for making a fortin, unless you've got money
at your back, as you have, boss. But I don't know if he had money, and
could go into steamers and such-like, that he would stick to it.
"I don't know nowt of his history, but I think things must have gone
hard with him somehow, and he came out here for excitement more than for
making money. But there's nothing reckless about him; he don't drink,
and he don't gamble, and it says a lot for a young fellow in New Orleans
that he don't do one or the other. And he can fight, he can; there ain't
no doubt about that. Why, I saw him give the biggest kind of a thrashing
to the bully of a lumber camp, where we moored up alongside one night,
as ever you seed. The chap was big enough to eat him, but he didn't have
no kind of show. The young un just hit him where he liked, and in five
minutes that chap's face was a thing to see, and the lad never got so
much as a scratch. I wouldn't have thought as a man could have used his
hands like that if I hadn't been thar. I shall be right-down sorry to
lose him."
"I knew well-nigh when I took him on that he was not likely to stay,
Hiram; he said as much. He wanted to get to know something about the
ways of the country before he decided upon anything. If all young
fellows would do as he did, go to work for a few months, instead of
loafing about spending their money, and getting into bad ways, and among
bad fellows, it would be better for them; he has only drawn a few
dollars for his expenses--when he was down the last time--since he came
to work, so he has got a good sum due to him. I will have a talk with
him myself. There are a good many parties starting from here and taking
the Santa Fé route; but, taking them all in all, I don't think I should
recommend him to hang on to one of them."
"No, I should guess they would be a pretty hard lot who would go out
from here--gamblers, and horse-thieves, and runaway sailors, and Mexican
fighters--neither good to travel with or good to work with; he had
better go up and strike from St. Louis."
"He had better go higher still, Hiram; there's a northern route, and I
hear a lot of the Western men are making across that. However, I will
talk to him."
That afternoon Frank went into Mr. Willcox's little office.
"Hiram has been speaking in very high terms of you, and I find that I am
indebted to you for the saving of the boat, with what cargo she had on
board, which Hiram said he had altogether given up as lost. You seem to
have been in a position of very great danger, and to have had an
extraordinarily narrow escape of your lives. However, I can understand
that you are not content to settle down for life on the Mississippi, but
I can tell you that with enterprise, judgment, and steadiness there is
fortune to be made here still. I am not surprised that the gold-seeking
mania has got hold of you."
"It is not so much, sir, the gold-seeking mania as the excitement
attending it. I don't think I particularly care about making money, but
I do want the excitement of such a life. I have come out for that, and
not, as it is generally called, to make my fortune. The course of my
life at home has been upset by circumstances into which I need not
enter, and, at any rate for a time, I want action, and excitement. After
that, perhaps, I may think of settling down, and what is called making
my way."
"I can understand your feeling, lad, and will not try to persuade you to
stop at this business. And now, what route are you thinking of taking
across the continent?"
"I was thinking of joining a party going direct from here across to
Santa Fé."
"I don't think that will be a good plan, lad. The caravans from here are
composed, for the most part, of very hard characters, the sort of men
who would shoot you for your horse if they took a fancy to it; I would
by no means advise you to ally yourself with such men. I can, I think,
put you in the way of a better plan than that. I find that a great
number of caravans from the West are going by a northern route which
crosses the Missouri at a point called Omaha. I have been thinking that
this will become an important place, and have made up my mind to
freight four or five flats with flour, bacon, and other goods of all
sorts, and a frame store, and to go up there and open a business. I
shall want a handy man with me at first; I shall take up a storekeeper
to leave there in charge, but at first he will want help. If you like to
go up in charge of one of the scows, and to stay to help put up the
store and set things running, I will give you a hundred dollars, and you
can have your passage up for your horse, which I should advise you to
buy here. You will get one that will carry you, though of course not
much to look at, for about fifty dollars; I know several horse-dealers
here, and will get one for you if you like. You had also better get a
stout pony to carry your traps and provisions; that will cost about
forty dollars. Then you must have a rifle and a Colt. These are
absolutely necessary for such a journey, for I hear that the Indians are
very troublesome on the plains. These, however, I myself shall have much
pleasure in presenting you with, in testimony of the obligation I feel I
owe you for saving my boat and goods. The hundred dollars that are due
to you, and the hundred that you will further earn at Omaha, will be
sufficient for your horses and outfit, which will leave this money which
you placed in my hands untouched. You will find that very useful, for
you will want to buy a tent and provisions and tools out there, and
money to keep you till you hit upon gold. Well, what do you think of my
offer?"
"I am extremely obliged to you, sir; nothing could suit me better. And I
am indeed greatly obliged for your kind offer of a rifle and revolver;
they will certainly be most necessary, by what one hears of the
journey."
"You have some other clothes, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir; I have another suit in my portmanteau."
"Very well, put them on, and come back here in an hour's time. It will
be a week before my steamer starts, and you had better come and stop
with me till then; it will keep you out of mischief, and I should be
glad of your company."
At the appointed time Frank returned to the office, dressed in the suit
of clothes he had brought with him. A light carriage with a pair of
horses was standing at the door.
"Ah!" Mr. Willcox laughed, as he came out, "I fancy you look more like
yourself now."
Frank took his place in the carriage, Mr. Willcox took the reins, the
negro servant sprang up behind, and they were soon rattling through the
streets of the town.
Mr. Willcox's house was situated two miles out of the city. It was a
large building, with a verandah running round it, and standing in
well-kept and handsome grounds; three or four negroes ran out as the
carriage drove up.
"Sam, take this gentleman's portmanteau upstairs, and get a bath ready
for him at once, and lay out a suit of white clothes for him.
"We always have a bath before dinner in this country," he said to Frank;
"one wants to get rid of the dust of the day. Dinner will be ready in
half an hour."
After enjoying a luxurious bath, and attiring himself in a suit of
snowy-white gear, Frank descended to the dining-room.
Mr. Willcox was a widower, without children, and they therefore dined
alone. As they were sitting over their wine after dinner in the
verandah, Frank's host said, "I do not wish to be inquisitive, but if
you don't mind telling me, I should like to know why a young fellow
like yourself should embark upon a life of adventure."
Frank had met with such kindness from his employer, that he frankly told
him the whole history of the eve
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