CHAPTER TEN.
HOME-COMING AND UNEXPECTED SURPRISES.
Upwards of another year passed away, and at the end of that time a shipmight have been seen approaching one of the harbours on the easternseaboard of America. Her sails were worn and patched. Her spars werebroken and spliced. Her rigging was ragged and slack, and the state ofher hull can be best described by the word `battered.' Everything inand about her bore evidence of a prolonged and hard struggle with theelements, and though she had at last come off victorious, herdilapidated appearance bore strong testimony to the deadly nature of thefight.
Her crew presented similar evidence. Not only were their garmentsragged, threadbare, and patched, but the very persons of the men seemedto have been riven and battered by the tear and wear of the conflict.And no wonder; for the vessel was a South Sea whaler, returning homeafter a three years' cruise.
At first she had been blown far out of her course; then she was verysuccessful in the fishing, and then she was stranded on the reef of acoral island in such a position that, though protected from absolutedestruction by the fury of the waves, she could not be got off for manymonths. At last the ingenuity and perseverance of one of her crew wererewarded by success. She was hauled once more into deep water andfinally returned home.
The man who had been thus successful in saving the ship, and probablythe lives of his mates--for it was a desolate isle, far out of thetracks of commerce--was standing in the bow of the vessel, watching theshore with his companions as they drew near. He was a splendid specimenof manhood, clad in a red shirt and canvas trousers, while a wide-awaketook the place of the usual seafaring cap. He stood head and shouldersabove his fellows.
Just as the ship rounded the end of the pier, which formed one side ofthe harbour, a small boat shot out from it. A little boy sculled theboat, and, apparently, had been ignorant of the ship's approach, for hegave a shout of alarm on seeing it, and made frantic efforts to get outof its way. In his wild attempts to turn the boat he missed a strokeand went backwards into the sea.
At the same moment the lookout on the ship gave the order to put thehelm hard a-starboard in a hurried shout.
Prompt obedience caused the ship to sheer off a little, and her sidejust grazed the boat. All hands on the forecastle gazed down anxiouslyfor the boy's reappearance.
Up he came next moment with a bubbling cry and clutching fingers.
"He can't swim!" cried one.
"Out with a lifebelt!" shouted another.
Our tall seaman bent forward as they spoke, and, just as the boy sank asecond time, he shot like an arrow into the water.
"He's all safe now," remarked a seaman quietly, and with a nod ofsatisfaction, even before the rescuer had reappeared.
And he was right. The red-shirted sailor rose a moment later with theboy in his arms. Chucking the urchin into the boat he swam to thepier-head with the smooth facility and speed of an otter, climbed thewooden piles with the ease of an athlete, walked rapidly along the pier,and arrived at the head of the harbour almost as soon as his own ship.
"That's the tenth life he's saved since he came aboard--to say nothin'o' savin' the ship herself," remarked the Captain to an inquirer, afterthe vessel had reached her moorings. "An' none o' the lives was as easyto manage as that one. Some o' them much harder."
We will follow this magnificent seaman for a time, good reader.
Having obtained permission to quit the South Sea whaler he walkedstraight to the office of a steam shipping company, and secured afore-cabin passage to England. He went on board dressed as he hadarrived, in the red shirt, ducks, and wide-awake--minus the salt water.The only piece of costume which he had added to his wardrobe was a hugedouble-breasted pilot-cloth coat, with buttons the size of an egg-cup.He was so unused, however, to such heavy clothing that he flung it offthe moment he got on board the steamer, and went about thereafter in hisred flannel shirt and ducks. Hence he came to be known by every one asRed Shirt.
This man, with his dark-blue eyes, deeply bronzed cheeks, fair hair,moustache, and beard, and tall herculean form, was nevertheless so softand gentle in his manners, so ready with his smile and help andsympathy, that every man, woman, and child in the vessel adored himbefore the third day was over. Previous to that day, many of thepassengers, owing to internal derangements, were incapable of anyaffection, except self-love, and to do them justice they had not mucheven of that!
Arrived at Liverpool, Red Shirt, after seeing a poor invalid passengersafely to his abode in that city, and assisting one or two families withyoung children to find the stations, boats, or coaches that were more orless connected with their homes, got into a third-class carriage forLondon. On reaching the metropolis he at once took a ticket for_Sealford_.
Just as the train was on the point of starting, two elderly gentlemencame on the platform, in that eager haste and confusion of mindcharacteristic of late passengers.
"This way, Captain," cried one, hailing the other, and pointingenergetically with his brown silk umbrella to the Sealford carriages.
"No, no. It's at the next platform," returned the Captain frantically.
"I say it is _here_," shouted the first speaker sternly. "Come, sir,obey orders!"
They both made for an open carriage-door. It chanced to be a thirdclass. A strong hand was held out to assist them in.
"Thank you," said the eldest elderly gentleman--he with the brown silkumbrella--turning to Red Shirt as he sat down and panted slightly.
"I feared that we'd be late, sir," remarked the other elderly gentlemanon recovering breath.
"We are _not_ late, Captain, but we should have been late for certain,if your obstinacy had held another half minute."
"Well, Mr Crossley, I admit that I made a mistake about the place, butyou must allow that I made no mistake about the hour. I was sure thatmy chronometer was right. If there's one thing on earth that I cantrust to as reg'lar as the sun, it is this chronometer (pulling it outas he spoke), and it never fails. As I always said to my missus,`Maggie,' I used to say, `when you find this chronometer fail--' `Oh!bother you an' your chronometer,' she would reply, takin' the wind outo' my sails--for my missus has a free-an'-easy way o' doin' that--"
"You've just come off a voyage, young sir, if I mistake not," saidCrossley, turning to Red Shirt, for he had quite as free-and-easy a wayof taking the wind out of Captain Stride's sails as the "missus."
"Yes; I have just returned," answered Red Shirt, in a low soft voice,which scarcely seemed appropriate to his colossal frame. His redgarment, by the way, was at the time all concealed by the pilot-coat,excepting the collar.
"Going home for a spell, I suppose?" said Crossley.
"Yes."
"May I ask where you last hailed from?" said Captain Stride, with somecuriosity, for there was something in the appearance of this nauticalstranger which interested him.
"From the southern seas. I have been away a long while in a South Seawhaler."
"Ah, indeed?--a rough service that."
"Rather rough; but I didn't enter it intentionally. I was picked up atsea, with some of my mates, in an open boat, by the whaler. She was onthe outward voyage, and couldn't land us anywhere, so we were obliged tomake up our minds to join as hands."
"Strange!" murmured Captain Stride. "Then you were wrecked somewhere--or your ship foundered, mayhap--eh?"
"Yes, we were wrecked--on a coral reef."
"Well now, young man, that is a strange coincidence. I was wreckedmyself on a coral reef in the very same seas, nigh three years ago.Isn't that odd?"
"Dear me, this is very interesting," put in Mr Crossley; "and, asCaptain Stride says, a somewhat strange coincidence."
"_Is_ it so very strange, after all," returned Red Shirt, "seeing thatthe Pacific is full of sunken coral reefs, and vessels are wrecked theremore or less every year?"
"Well, there's some truth in that," observed the Captain. "Did you sayit was a sunk reef your ship struck on?"
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p; "Yes; quite sunk. No part visible. It was calm weather at the time,and a clear night."
"Another coincidence!" exclaimed Stride, becoming still more interested."Calm and clear, too, when I was wrecked!"
"Curious," remarked Red Shirt in a cool indifferent tone, that began toexasperate the Captain.
"Yet, after all, there are a good many calm and clear nights in thePacific, as well as coral reefs."
"Why, young man," cried Stride in a tone that made old Crossley smile,"you seem to think nothing at all of coincidences. It's very seldom--almost never--that one hears of so many coincidences happening on _this_side o' the line all at once--don't you see."
"I see," returned Red Shirt; "and the same, exactly, may be said of the_other_ side o' the line. I very seldom--almost never--heard of so manyout there; which itself may be called a coincidence, d'ee see? a sort ofnegative similarity."
"Young man, I would suspect you were jesting with me," returned theCaptain, "but for the fact that you told me of your experiences first,before you could know that mine would coincide with them so exactly."
"Your conclusions are very just, sir," rejoined Red Shirt, with a graveand respectful air; "but of course coincidences never go on in anunbroken chain. They _must_ cease sooner or later. We left our wreckin _three_ boats. No doubt you--"
"There again!" cried the Captain in blazing astonishment, as he removedhis hat and wiped his heated brow, while Mr Crossley's eyes opened totheir widest extent. "_We_ left our wreck in _three_ boats! My ship'sname was--"
"The _Walrus_," said Red Shirt quietly, "and her Captain's name wasStride!"
Old Crossley had reached the stage that is known as petrified withastonishment. The Captain, being unable to open his eyes wider, droppedhis lower jaw instead.
"Surely," continued Red Shirt, removing his wide-awake, and lookingsteadily at his companions, "I must have changed very much indeed whentwo of my--"
"Brooke!" exclaimed Crossley, grasping one of the sailor's hands.
"Charlie!" gasped the Captain, seizing the other hand.
What they all said after reaching this point it is neither easy nornecessary to record. Perhaps it may be as well to leave it to thereader's vivid imagination. Suffice it to say, that our hero irritatedthe Captain no longer by his callous indifference to coincidences. Inthe midst of the confusion of hurried question and short reply, hepulled them up with the sudden query anxiously put--
"But now, what of my mother?"
"Well--excellently well in health, my boy," said Crossley, "but woefullylow in spirits about yourself--Charlie. Yet nothing will induce her toentertain the idea that you have been drowned. Of course we have beenrather glad of this--though most of our friends, Charlie, have given youup for lost long ago. May Leather, too, has been much the same way ofthinking, so she has naturally been a great comfort to your mother."
"God bless her for that. She's a good little girl," said Charlie.
"Little girl," repeated both elderly gentlemen in a breath, and burstinginto a laugh. "You forget, lad," said the Captain, "that three years orso makes a considerable change in girls of her age. She's a tall,handsome young woman now; ay, and a good-looking one too. Almost asgood-lookin' as what my missus was about her age--an' not unlike mylittle Mag in the face--the one you rescued, you remember--who is also astrappin' lass now."
"I'm very glad to hear they are well, Captain," said Charlie; "and,Shank, what of--"
He stopped, for the grave looks of his friends told him that somethingwas wrong.
"Gone to the dogs," said the Captain.
"Nay, not quite gone--but going--fast."
"And the father?"
"Much as he was, Charlie, only somewhat more deeply sunk. The fact is,"continued Crossley, "it is this very matter that takes us down toSealford to-day. We have just had fresh news of Shank--who is inAmerica--and I want to consult with Mrs Leather about him. You see Ihave agents out there who may be able to help us to save him."
"From drink, I suppose," interposed our hero.
"From himself, Charlie, and that includes drink and a great deal more.I dare say you are aware--at least, if you are not, I now tell you--thatI have long taken great interest in Mrs Leather and her family, andwould go a long way, and give a great deal, to save Shank. You know--no, of course you don't, I forgot--that he threw up his situation in myoffice--Withers and Company. (Ay, you may smile, my lad, but wehumbugged you and got the better of you that time. Didn't we, Captain?)Well, Shank was induced by that fellow Ralph Ritson to go away to somegold-mine or other worked by his father in California, but when theyreached America they got news of the failure of the Company and thedeath of old Ritson. Of course the poor fellows were at once thrown ontheir own resources, but, instead of facing life like men, they took togambling. The usual results followed. They lost all they had and wentoff to Texas or some such wild place, and for a long time were no moreheard of. At last, just the other day, a letter came from Ritson toMrs Leather, telling her that her son is very ill--perhaps dying--insome out o' the way place. Ritson was nursing him, but, being illhimself, unable to work, and without means, it would help them greatlyif some money could be sent--even though only a small sum."
Charlie Brooke listened to this narrative with compressed brows, andremained silent a few seconds. "My poor chum!" he exclaimed at length.Then a flash of fire seemed to gleam in his blue eyes as he added, "If Ihad that fellow Ritson by the--"
He stopped abruptly, and the fire in the eyes died out, for it was nopart of our hero's character to boast--much less to speak harshly of menbehind their backs.
"Has money been sent?" he asked.
"Not yet. It is about that business that I'm going to call on poor MrsLeather now. We must be careful, you see. I have no reason, it istrue, to believe that Ritson is deceiving us, but when a youth of noprinciple writes to make a sudden demand for money, it behoves people tothink twice before they send it."
"Ay, to think three times--perhaps even four or five," broke in theCaptain, with stern emphasis. "I know Ralph Ritson well, the scoundrel,an' if I had aught to do wi' it I'd not send him a penny. As I said tomy--"
"Does your mother know of your arrival?" asked Mr Crossley abruptly.
"No; I meant to take her by surprise."
"Humph! Just like you young fellows. In some things you have no morebrains than geese. Being made of cast-iron and shoe-leather you assumethat everybody else is, or ought to be, made of the same raw material.Don't you know that surprises of this sort are apt to kill delicatepeople?"
Charlie smiled by way of reply.
"No, sir," continued the old gentleman firmly, "I won't let you take herby surprise. While I go round to the Leathers my good friend CaptainStride will go in advance of you to Mrs Brooke's and break the news toher. He is accustomed to deal with ladies."
"Right you are, sir," said the gratified Captain, removing his hat andwiping his brow. "As I said, no later than yesterday to--"
A terrific shriek from the steam-whistle, and a plunge into the darknessof a tunnel stopped--and thus lost to the world for ever--what theCaptain said upon that occasion.