CHAPTER THREE.
"IT'S AN ILL WIND THAT BLAWS NAEBODY GUID."
That many if not most names have originated in the character orcondition of individuals seems obvious, else why is it that so manypeople take after their names? We have no desire to argue the question,but hasten on to remark that old Jacob Crossley was said to be--observe,we do not say that he was--a notable illustration of what we refer to.
Jacob was "as cross as two sticks," if we are to believe Mrs Bland, hishousekeeper--and Mrs Bland was worthy of belief, for she was an honestwidow who held prevarication to be equivalent to lying, and who, besideshaving been in the old bachelor's service for many years, had on oneoccasion been plucked by him from under the feet of a pair of horseswhen attempting the more dangerous than nor'-west passage of a Londoncrossing. Gratitude, therefore, rendered it probable that Mrs Blandspake truly when she said that her master was as cross as two sticks.Of course we admit that her judgment may have been faulty.
Strange to say Mr Crossley had no reason--at least no very apparentreason--for being cross, unless, indeed, the mere fact of his being anold bachelor was a sufficient reason. Perhaps it was! But in regard toeverything else he had, as the saying goes, nothing to complain of. Hewas a prosperous East India merchant--not a miser, though a cross oldbachelor, and not a millionaire, though comfortably rich. His businesswas prosperous, his friends were numerous, his digestion was good, hisnervous system was apparently all that could be desired, and he sleptwell!
Standing one morning in the familiar British position before hisdining-room fire in London, he frowningly contemplated his housekeeperas that indefatigable woman removed the breakfast equipage.
"Has the young man called this morning?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Well, when he comes tell him I had business in the city and could waitno--"
A ring and a sharp knock interrupted him. A few moments later CharlieBrooke was ushered into the room. It was a smallish room, for MrCrossley, although well off, did not see the propriety of wasting moneyon unnecessary space or rent, and the doorway was so low that Charlie'shair brushed against the top as he entered.
"I called, Mr Crossley, in accordance with the wish expressed in yourletter. Although, being a stranger, I do not--"
The young man stopped at this point and looked steadily at the oldgentleman with a peculiarly questioning expression.
"You recognise me, I see," said the old man, with a very slight smile.
"Well--I may be mistaken, but you do bear some resemblance to--"
"Just so, I'm the man that you hauled so violently out of the cabin ofthe wreck last week, and shoved so unceremoniously into the life-buoy,and I have sent for you, first, to thank you for saving my life, becausethey tell me that, but for your swimming off with a rope, we shouldcertainly have all been lost; and, secondly, to offer you aid in anycourse of life you may wish to adopt, for I have been informed that youare not at present engaged in any special employment."
"You are very kind, sir, very kind," returned Charlie, somewhatembarrassed. "I can scarcely claim, however, to have saved your life,though I thankfully admit having had the opportunity to lend a hand.The rocket-men, in reality, did the work, for without their splendidworking of the apparatus my swimming off would have been useless."
Mr Crossley frowned while the youth was speaking, and regarded him withsome suspicion.
"You admit, I suppose," he rejoined sternly, "that if you had _not_ swumoff, the rocket apparatus would have been equally useless."
"By no means," returned Charlie, with that benignant smile that alwaysaccompanied his opposition in argument. "I do not admit that, because,if I had not done it, assuredly some one else would. In fact a friendof mine was on the point of making the attempt when I pulled him backand prevented him."
"And why did you prevent him?"
"Because he was not so well able to do it as I."
"Oh! I see. In other words, you have a pretty high opinion of your ownpowers."
"Possibly I have," returned the youth, somewhat sharply. "I lay claimto no exemption from the universal law of vanity which seems to affectthe entire human race--especially the cynical part of it. At the sametime, knowing from long experience that I am physically stronger, canswim better, and have greater power of endurance, though not greatercourage, than my friend, it would be mere pretence were I to assume thatin such matters I was his inferior. You asked me why I prevented him: Igave you the reason exactly and straightforwardly. I now repeat it."
"Don't be so ready to fire up, young man," said Crossley, with adeprecating smile. "I had no intention of hurting your feelings."
"You have not hurt them, sir," returned Charlie, with almost provokingurbanity of manner and sweetness of voice, "you have only misunderstoodme."
"Well, well, let it pass. Tell me, now, can I do anything for you?"
"Nothing, thank you."
"Eh?" exclaimed the old gentleman in surprise.
"Nothing, thank you," repeated his visitor. "I did not save you for thepurpose of being rewarded, and I refuse to accept reward for savingyou."
For a second or two Mr Crossley regarded his visitor in silence, with aconflicting mixture of frown and smile--a sort of acidulated-dropexpression on his rugged face. Then he asked--
"What is the name of this friend whom you prevented from swimming off tous?"
"Shank Leather."
"Is he a very great friend of yours?"
"Very. We have been playmates from childhood, and school-fellows tillnow."
"What is he?--his profession, I mean?"
"Nothing at present. That is to say, he has, like myself, been trainedto no special profession, and the failure of the firm in thecounting-house of which we have both served for some months has cast usadrift at the same time."
"Would it give you much satisfaction if I were to find good employmentfor your friend?"
"Indeed it would--the highest possible satisfaction," exclaimed Charlie,with the first symptom of enthusiasm in his tone and look.
"What can your friend Shank Leather do?" asked the old man brusquely.
"Oh! many things. He's capital at figures, thoroughly understandsbook-keeping, and--and is a hard-working fellow, whatever he puts hishand to."
"Is he steady?"
Charlie was silent for a few moments.
"Well, one cannot be sure," he answered, with some hesitation, "whatmeaning you attach to the word `steady.' I--"
"Yes, yes, I see," interrupted Crossley, consulting his watch. "No timeto discuss meanings of words just now. Will you tell your friend tocall on me here the day after to-morrow at six o'clock? You live inSealford, I have been told; does he live near you?"
"Yes, within a few minutes' walk."
"Well, tell him to be punctual. Punctuality is the soul of business.Hope I won't find your friend as independent as you seem to be! You arequite sure, are you, that I can do nothing for you? I have both moneyand influence."
The more determined that our hero became to decline all offers ofassistance from the man who had misconstrued his motives, the more ofurbanity marked his manner, and it was with a smile of ineffablegood-nature on his masculine features that he repeated, "Nothing, thankyou--quite sure. You will have done me the greatest possible servicewhen you help my friend. Yet--stay. You mentioned money. There is aninstitution in which I am much interested, and which you mightappropriately remember just now."
"What is that?"
"The Lifeboat Institution."
"But it was not the Lifeboat Institution that saved _me_. It was theRocket apparatus."
"True, but it _might_ have been a lifeboat that saved you. The rocketsare in charge of the Coast-Guard and need no assistance, whereas theLifeboat Service depends on voluntary contributions, and the fact thatit did not happen to save Mr Crossley from a grave in the sea does notaffect its claim to the nation's gratitude for the hundreds of livessaved by its boats every year."
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p; "Admitted, my young friend, your reasoning is just," said the oldgentleman, sitting down at a writing table and taking a cheque-book froma drawer; "what shall I put down?"
"You know your circumstances best," said Charlie, somewhat amused by thequestion.
"Most people in ordinary circumstances," returned the old man slowly ashe wrote, "contribute a guinea to such charities."
"Many people," remarked Charlie, with a feeling of pity rather thancontempt, "contribute five, or even fifteen."
"Ah, indeed--yes, well, Mr Brooke, will you condescend to be the bearerof my contribution? Fourteen Saint John Street, Adelphi, is not farfrom this, and it will save a penny of postage, you know!"
Mr Crossley rose and handed the cheque to his visitor, who felt halfdisposed--on the strength of the postage remark--to refuse it and speakhis mind somewhat freely on the subject, but, his eye happening to fallon the cheque at the moment, he paused.
"You have made a mistake, I think," he said. "This is for five_hundred_ pounds."
"I make no mistakes, Mr Brooke," returned the old man sternly. "Yousaid something about five or fifteen. I could not well manage fifteen_hundred_ just now, for it is bad times in the city at present. Indeed,according to some people, it is always bad times there, and, to saytruth, some people are not far wrong--at least as regards their ownexperiences. Now, I must be off to business. Good-bye. Don't forgetto impress on your friend the importance of punctuality."
Jacob Crossley held out his hand with an expression of affability whichwas for him quite marvellous.
"You're a much better man than I thought!" exclaimed Charlie, graspingthe proffered hand with a fervour that caused the other to wince.
"Young sir," returned Crossley, regarding the fingers of his right handsomewhat pitifully, "people whose physique is moulded on the pattern ofSamson ought to bear in mind that rheumatism is not altogether unknownto elderly men. Your opinion of me was probably erroneous to beginwith, and it is certainly false to end with. Let me advise you toremember that the gift of money does not necessarily prove anythingexcept that a man has money to give--nay, it does not always prove eventhat, for many people are notoriously prone to give away money thatbelongs to somebody else. Five hundred pounds is to some men not ofmuch more importance than five pence is to others. Everything isrelative. Good-bye."
While he was speaking Mr Crossley rang the bell and politely opened thedining-room door, so that our hero found himself in the street before hehad quite recovered from his astonishment.
"Please, sir," said Mrs Bland to her master after Charlie was gone,"Cap'en Stride is awaitin' in the library."
"Send him here," said Crossley, once more consulting his watch.
"Well, Captain Stride, I've had a talk with him," he said, as anexceedingly broad, heavy, short-legged man entered, with a bald head anda general air of salt water, tar, and whiskers about him. "Sit down.Have you made up your mind to take command of the _Walrus_?"
"Well, Mr Crossley, since you're so _very_ good," said the sea-captainwith a modest look, "I had feared that the loss o'--"
"Never mind the loss of the brig, Captain. It was no fault of yoursthat she came to grief. Other ship-owners may do as they please. Ishall take the liberty of doing as _I_ please. So, if you are ready,the ship is ready. I have seen Captain Stuart, and I find that he isdown with typhoid fever, poor fellow, and won't be fit for duty againfor many weeks. The _Walrus_ must sail not later than a week or tendays hence. She can't sail without a captain, and I know of no betterman than yourself; so, if you agree to take command, there she is, ifnot I'll find another man."
"I'm agreeable, sir," said Captain Stride, with a gratified, meek lookon his large bronzed face--a look so very different from the leonineglare with which he was wont to regard tempestuous weather or turbulentmen. "Of course it'll come rather sudden on the missus, but w'en itblows hard what's a man got to do but make all snug and stand by?"
"Quite true, Stride, I have no doubt that you are nautically as well asmorally correct, so I leave it to you to bring round the mistress, andconsider that matter as settled. By the way, I hope that she and yourlittle girl have not suffered from the wetting and rough handlingexperienced when being rescued."
"Not in the least, sir, thankee. In fact I incline to the belief thatthey are rather more frisky than usual in consekince. Leastwise_little_ Maggie is."
"Glad to hear it. Now, about that young fellow."
"By which I s'pose you mean Mr Brooke, sir?"
"The same. He has just left me, and upon my word, he's about thecoolest young fellow I ever met with."
"That's just what I said to the missus, sir, the very night arter we wasrescued. `The way that young feller come off, Maggie,' says I, `is mostextraor'nar'. No fish that--'"
"Yes, yes, Stride, I know, but that's not exactly what I mean: it's hisbeing so amazingly independent that--"
"'Zactly what I said, sir. `Maggie,' says I, `that young feller seemedto be quite independent of fin or tail, for he came right off in theteeth o' wind and tide--'"
"That's not what I mean either, Captain," interrupted the old gentleman,with slight impatience. "It's his independent spirit I refer to."
"Oh! I ax your pardon, sir."
"Well, now, listen, and don't interrupt me. But first let me ask, doeshe know that I am the owner of the brig that was lost?"
"Yes; he knows that."
"Does he know that I also own the _Walrus_."
"No, I'm pretty sure he don't. Leastwise I didn't tell him, an' there'snobody else down there as knows anything about you."
"So far, good. Now, Stride, I want you to help me. The young goose isso proud, or I know not what, that he won't accept any favours orrewards from me, and I find that he is out of work just now, so I'mdetermined to give him something to do in spite of himself. The presentsupercargo of the _Walrus_ is a young man who will be pleased to fall inwith anything I propose to him. I mean, therefore, to put him inanother ship and appoint young Brooke to the _Walrus_. Fortunately thefirm of Withers and Company does not reveal my name--I having beenCompany originally, though I'm the firm now, so that he won't suspectanything, and what I want is, that you should do the engaging of him--being authorised by Withers and Company--you understand?"
"I follow you, sir. But what if he objects?"
"He won't object. I have privately inquired about him. He is anxiousto get employment, and has strong leanings to an adventurous life on thesea. There's no accounting for taste, Captain!"
"Right you are, sir," replied the Captain, with an approving nod."That's what I said only this mornin' to my missus. `Maggie,' says I,`salt water hasn't a good taste, as even the stoopidest of mortalsknows, but w'en a man has had to lick it off his lips at sea for thebetter part of half a century, it's astonishin' how he not only gitsused to it, but even comes to like the taste of it.' `Pooh!' says she,`don't tell me you likes it, for you don't! It's all a d'lusion an' asnare. I hates both the taste an' the smell of it.' `Maggie,' says I,quite solemn-like, `that may be so, but you're not me.' `No, thankgoodness!' says she--which you mustn't suppose, sir, meant as she didn'tlike _me_, for she's a true-hearted affectionate creetur--though I sayit as shouldn't--but she meant that she'd have had to go to sea reg'larif she had been me, an' that would have done for her in about six weeks,more or less, for the first time she ever went she was all but turnedinside--"
"If you're going citywards," interrupted Mr Crossley, again pulling outhis watch, "we may as well finish our talk in the street."
As Captain Stride was "quite agreeable" to this proposal, the two leftthe house together, and, hailing a hansom, drove off in the direction ofthe City.