CHAPTER ELEVEN.
TELLS OF HAPPY MEETINGS AND SERIOUS CONSULTATIONS.
Whether Captain Stride executed his commission well or not we cannottell, and whether the meeting of Mrs Brooke with her long-lost son cameto near killing or not we will not tell. Enough to know that they met,and that the Captain--with that delicacy of feeling so noticeable inseafaring men--went outside the cottage door and smoked his pipe whilethe meeting was in progress. After having given sufficient time, as hesaid, "for the first o' the squall to blow over," he summarily snubbedhis pipe, put it into his vest pocket, and re-entered.
"Now, missus, you'll excuse me, ma'am, for cuttin' in atween you, butthis business o' the Leathers is pressin', an' if we are to hold aconfabulation wi' the family about it, why--"
"Ah, to be sure, Captain Stride is right," said Mrs Brooke, turning toher stalwart son, who was seated on the sofa beside her. "This is avery, _very_ sad business about poor Shank. You had better go to them,Charlie. I will follow you in a short time."
"Mr Crossley is with them at this moment. I forgot to say so, mother."
"Is he? I'm _very_ glad of that," returned the widow. "He has been atrue friend to us all. Go, Charlie. But stay. I see May coming. Thedear child always comes to me when there is anything good or sorrowfulto tell. But she comes from the wrong direction. Perhaps she does notyet know of Mr Crossley's arrival."
"May! Can it be?" exclaimed Charlie in an undertone of surprise as heobserved, through the window, the girl who approached.
And well might he be surprised, for this, although the same May, wasvery different from the girl he left behind him. The angles of girlhoodhad given place to the rounded lines of young womanhood. The rich curlybrown hair, which used to whirl wildly in the sea-breezes, was gatheredup in a luxuriant mass behind her graceful head, and from the foreheadit was drawn back in two wavy bands, in defiance of fashion, which atthat time was beginning to introduce the detestable modern fringe.Perhaps we are not quite un-biassed in our judgment of the said fringe,far it is intimately associated in our mind with the savages of NorthAmerica, whose dirty red faces, in years past, were wont to glower at usfrom beneath just such a fringe, long before it was adopted by the fairdames of England!
In other respects, however, May was little changed, except that theslightest curl of sadness about her eyebrows made her face moreattractive than ever, as she nodded pleasantly to the Captain, who hadhastened to the door to meet her.
"So glad to see you, Captain Stride," she said, shaking hands withunfeminine heartiness. "Have you been to see mother? I have just beenhaving a walk before--"
She stopped as if transfixed, for at that moment she caught sight ofCharlie and his mother through the open door.
Poor May flushed to the roots of her hair; then she turned deadly pale,and would have fallen had not the gallant Captain caught her in hisarms. But by a powerful effort of will she recovered herself in time toavoid a scene.
"The sight of you reminded me so strongly of our dear Shank!" shestammered, when Charlie, hastening forward, grasped both her hands andshook them warmly. "Besides--some of us thought you were dead."
"No wonder you thought of Shank," returned Charlie, "for he and I usedto be so constantly together. But don't be cast down, May. We'll getShank out of his troubles yet."
"Yes, and you know he has Ritson with him," said Mrs Brooke; "and he,although not quite as steady as we could wish, will be sure to care forsuch an old friend in his sickness. But you'd better go, Charlie, andsee Mrs Leather. They will be sure to want you and Captain Stride.May will remain here with me. Sit down beside me, dear, I want to havea chat with you."
"Perhaps, ma'am, if I make so bold," interposed the Captain, "MrCrossley may want to have Miss May also at the council of war."
"Mr Crossley! is _he_ with my mother?" asked the girl eagerly.
"Yes, Miss May, he is."
"Then I _must_ be there. Excuse me, dear Mrs Brooke."
And without more ado May ran out of the house. She was followed soonafter by Charlie and the Captain, and Mrs Brooke was left alone,expressing her thankfulness and joy of heart in a few silent tears overher knitting.
There was a wonderful similarity in many respects between Mrs Brookeand her friend Mrs Leather. They both knitted--continuously andpersistently. This was a convenient if not a powerful bond, for itenabled them to sit for hours together--busy, yet free to talk. Theywere both invalids--a sympathetic bond of considerable strength. Theyheld the same religious views--an indispensable bond where two peoplehave to be much together, and are in earnest. They were both poor--anatural bond which draws people of a certain kind very close together,physically as well as spiritually--and both, up to this time at least,had long-absent and semi-lost sons. Even in the matter of daughtersthey might be said, in a sense, to be almost equal, for May, lovingeach, was a daughter to both. Lastly, in this matter of similarity, thetwo ladies were good--good as gold, according to Captain Stride, and heought to have been an authority, for he frequently visited them and knewall their affairs. Fortunately for both ladies, Mrs Brooke was by farthe stronger-minded--hence they never quarrelled!
In Mrs Leather's parlour a solemn conclave was seated round the parlourtable. They were very earnest, for the case under consideration wasurgent, as well as very pitiful. Poor Mrs Leather's face was wet withtears, and the pretty brown eyes of May were not dry. They had had along talk over the letter from Ritson, which was brief and to the pointbut meagre as to details.
"I rather like the letter, considering who wrote it," observed MrCrossley, laying it down after a fourth perusal. "You see he makes nowhining or discontented reference to the hardness of their luck, whichyoung scapegraces are so fond of doing; nor does he make effusiveprofessions of regret or repentance, which hypocrites are so prone todo. I think it bears the stamp of being genuine on the face of it. Atleast it appears to be straightforward."
"I'm so glad you think so, Mr Crossley," said Mrs Leather; "for MrRitson is such a pleasant young man--and so good-looking, too!"
The old gentleman and the Captain both burst into a laugh at this.
"I'm afraid," said the former, "that good looks are no guarantee forgood behaviour. However, I have made up my mind to send him a small sumof money--not to Shank, Mrs Leather, so you need not begin to thank me.I shall send it to Ritson."
"Well, thank you all the same," interposed the lady, taking up herknitting and resuming operations below the table, gazing placidly allthe while at her friends like some consummate conjuror, "for Ralph willbe sure to look after Shank."
"The only thing that puzzles me is, how are we to get it sent to such anout-o'-the-way place--Traitor's Trap! It's a bad name, and the stupidfellow makes no mention of any known town near to it, though he givesthe post-office. If I only knew its exact whereabouts I might get someone to take the money to him, for I have agents in many parts ofAmerica."
After prolonged discussion of the subject, Mr Crossley returned to townto make inquiries, and the Captain went to take his favourite walk bythe sea-shore, where he was wont, when paying a visit to Sealford, todrive the Leathers' little dog half-mad with delight by throwing stonesinto the sea for Scraggy to go in for--which he always did, though henever fetched them out.
In the course of that day Charlie Brooke left his mother to take astroll, and naturally turned in the direction of the sea. When half-waythrough the lane with the high banks on either side he encountered May.
"What a pleasant pretty girl she has become!" was his thought as shedrew near.
"Nobler and handsomer than ever!" was hers as he approached.
The thoughts of both sent a flush to the face of each, but the colourscarcely showed through the bronzed skin of the man.
"Why, what a woman you have grown, May!" said Charlie, grasping herhand, and attempting to resume the old familiar terms--with, however,imperfect success.
"Isn't that natural?" asked May, with a glance and a little laug
h.
That glance and that little laugh, insignificant in themselves, tore aveil from the eyes of Charlie Brooke. He had always been fond of MayLeather, after a fashion. _Now_ it suddenly rushed upon him that he wasfond of her after another fashion! He was a quick thinker and justreasoner. A poor man without a profession and no prospects has no rightto try to gain the affections of a girl. He became grave instantly.
"May," he said, "will you turn back to the shore with me for a little?I want to have a talk about Shank. I want you to tell me all you knowabout him. Don't conceal anything. I feel as if I had a right to claimyour confidence, for, as you know well, he and I have been like brotherssince we were little boys."
May had turned at once, and the tears filled her eyes as she told thesad story. It was long, and the poor girl was graphic in detail. Wecan give but the outline here.
Shank had gone off with Ritson not long after the sailing of the_Walrus_. On reaching America, and hearing of the failure of thecompany that worked the gold mine, and of old Ritson's death, they knewnot which way to turn. It was a tremendous blow, and seemed to haverendered them reckless, for they soon took to gambling. At first theyremained in New York, and letters came home pretty regularly, in whichShank always expressed hopes of getting more respectable work. He didnot conceal their mode of gaining a livelihood, but defended it on theground that "a man must live!"
For a time the letters were cheerful. The young men were "lucky." Thencame a change of luck, and a consequent change in the letters, whichcame less frequently. At last there arrived one from Shank, both thestyle and penmanship of which told that he had not forsaken the greatcurse of his life--strong drink. It told of disaster, and of going offto the "Rockies" with a party of "discoverers," though what they were todiscover was not mentioned.
"From that date till now," said May in conclusion, "we have heardnothing about them till this letter came from Mr Ritson, telling ofdear Shank being so ill, and asking for money."
"I wish any one were with Shank rather than that man," said Charliesternly; "I have no confidence in him whatever, and I knew him well as aboy."
"Nevertheless, I think we may trust him. Indeed I feel sure he won'tdesert his wounded comrade," returned May, with a blush.
The youth did not observe the blush. His thoughts were otherwiseengaged, and his eyes were at the moment fixed on a far-off part of theshore, where Captain Stride could be seen urging on the joyful Scraggyto his fruitless labours.
"I wish I could feel as confident of him as you do, May. However,misfortune as well as experience may have made him a wiser, perhaps abetter, man. But what troubles me most is the uncertainty of the moneythat Mr Crossley is going to send ever reaching its destination."
"Oh! if we only knew some one in New York who would take it to them,"said May, looking piteously at the horizon, as if she wereapostrophising some one on the other side of the Atlantic.
"Why, you talk as if New York and Traitor's Trap were within a few milesof each other," said Charlie, smiling gently. "They are hundreds ofmiles apart."
"Well, I suppose they are. But I feel so anxious about Shank when Ithink of the dear boy lying ill, perhaps dying, in a lonely place farfar away from us all, and no one but Mr Ritson to care for him! If Iwere only a man I would go to him myself."
She broke down at this point, and put her handkerchief to her face.
"Don't cry, May," began the youth in sore perplexity, for he knew nothow to comfort the poor girl in the circumstances, but fortunatelyCaptain Stride caught sight of them at the moment, and gave them astentorian hail.
"Hi! halloo! back your to-o-o-ps'ls. I'll overhaul ye in a jiffy."
How long a nautical jiffy may be we know not, but, in a remarkably briefspace of time, considering the shortness and thickness of his sea-legs,the Captain was alongside, blowing, as he said, "like a grampus."
That night Charlie Brooke sat with his mother in her parlour. They werealone--their friends having considerately left them to themselves onthis their first night.
They had been talking earnestly about past and present, for the son hadmuch to learn about old friends and comrades, and the mother had much totell.
"And now, mother," said Charlie, at the end of a brief pause, "whatabout the future?"
"Surely, my boy, it is time enough to talk about that to-morrow, or nextday. You are not obliged to think of the future before you have spenteven one night in your old room."
"Not absolutely obliged, mother. Nevertheless, I should like to speakabout it. Poor Shank is heavy on my mind, and when I heard all abouthim to-day from May, I--. She's wonderfully improved, that girl,mother. Grown quite pretty?"
"Indeed she is--and as good as she's pretty," returned Mrs Brooke, witha furtive glance at her son.
"She broke down when talking about Shank to-day, and I declare shelooked quite beautiful! Evidently Shank's condition weighs heavily onher mind."
"Can you wonder, Charlie?"
"Of course not. It's natural, and I quite sympathised with her when sheexclaimed, `If I were only a man I would go to him myself.'"
"That's natural too, my son. I have no doubt she would, poor dear girl,if she were only a man."
"Do you know, mother, I've not been able to get that speech out of myhead all this afternoon. `If I were a man--if I were a man,' keepsringing in my ears like the chorus of an old song, and then--"
"Well, Charlie, what then?" asked Mrs Brooke, with a puzzled glance.
"Why, then, somehow the chorus has changed in my brain and it runs--`I_am_ a man! I _am_ a man!'"
"Well?" asked the mother, with an anxious look.
"Well--that being so, I have made up my mind that _I_ will go out toTraitor's Trap and carry the money to Shank, and look after him myself.That is, if you will let me."
"O Charlie! how can you talk of it?" said Mrs Brooke, with a distressedlook. "I have scarcely had time to realise the fact that you have comehome, and to thank God for it, when you begin to talk of leaving meagain--perhaps for years, as before."
"Nay, mother mine, you jump to conclusions too hastily. What I proposeis not to go off again on a long voyage, but to take a run of a few daysin a first-class steamer across what the Americans call the bigfish-pond; then go across country comfortably by rail; after that hire ahorse and have a gallop somewhere or other; find out Shank and bring himhome. The whole thing might be done in a few weeks; and no chance,almost, of being wrecked."
"I don't know, Charlie," returned Mrs Brooke, in a sad tone, as shelaid her hand on her son's arm and stroked it. "As you put it, thething sounds all very easy, and no doubt it would be a grand, a noblething to rescue Shank--but--but, why talk of it to-night, my dear boy?It is late. Go to bed, Charlie, and we will talk it over in themorning."
"How pleasantly familiar that `Go to bed, Charlie,' sounds," said theson, laughing, as he rose up.
"You did not always think it pleasant," returned the good lady, with asad smile.
"That's true, but I think it uncommonly pleasant _now_. Good-night,mother."
"Good-night, my son, and God bless you."