CHAPTER EIGHT.
INGRATITUDE.
A year or more passed away, and then there came a cablegram from NewYork to Jacob Crossley, Esquire, from Captain Stride. The old gentlemanwas at breakfast when he received it, and his housekeeper, Mrs Bland,was in the act of setting before him a dish of buttered toast when heopened the envelope. At the first glance he started up, overturned hiscup of coffee, without paying the least attention to the fact, andexclaimed with emphasis--"As I expected. It is lost!"
"'Ow could you expect it, sir, to be anythink else, w'en you've sent itall over the table-cloth?" said Mrs Bland, in some surprise.
"It is not that, Mrs Bland," said Mr Crossley, in a hurried manner;"it is my ship the _Walrus_. Of course I knew long ago that it musthave been lost," continued the old gentleman, speaking his thoughts moreto himself than to the housekeeper, who was carefully spooning up thespilt coffee, "but the best of it is that the Captain has escaped."
"Well, I'm sure, sir," said Mrs Bland, condescending to be interested,and to ignore, if not to forget, the coffee, "I'm very glad to 'ear it,sir, for Captain Stride is a pleasant cheery sort of man, and would beagreeable company if 'e didn't use so much sea-langwidge, and speak somuch of 'is missis. An' I'm glad to 'ear it too, sir, on account o'that fine young man that sailed with 'im--Mr Book, I think, was--"
"No, Mrs Bland, it was Brooke; but that's the worst of the business,"said the old gentleman; "I'm not quite sure whether young Brooke _is_among the saved. Here is what the telegram says:--
"`From Captain Stride to Jacob Crossley. Just arrived, (that's in NewYork, Mrs Bland); _Walrus_ lost. All hands left her in three boats.
"`Our boat made uninhabited island, and knocked to pieces. Eight monthson the island. Rescued by American barque. Fate of other boatsunknown. Will be home within a couple of weeks.'"
"Why, it sounds like _Robinson Crusoe_, sir, don't it? which I read whenI was quite a gurl, but I don't believe it myself though they do sayit's all true. Young Mr Leather will be glad to 'ear the good noos of'is friend--"
"But this is _not_ good news of his friend; it is only uncertain news,"interrupted the old gentleman quickly. "Now I think of it, Mrs Bland,Mr Leather is to call here by appointment this very morning, so youmust be particularly careful not to say a word to him about thistelegram, or Captain Stride, or anything I have told you about the lostship--you understand, Mrs Bland?"
"Certainly, sir," said the housekeeper, somewhat hurt by the doubt thusimplied as to the capacity of her understanding. "Shall I bring yousome more toast, sir?" she added, with the virtuous feeling that by thisquestion she was returning good for evil.
"No, thank you. Now, Mrs Bland, don't forget. Not a word about thisto any one."
"'Ooks an' red-'ot pincers wouldn't draw a syllable out of _me_, sir,"returned the good woman, departing with an offended air, and leaving hermaster to understand that, in her opinion, such instruments might have avery different effect upon _him_.
"Ass that I was to speak of it to her at all," muttered Mr Crossley,walking up and down the room with spectacles on forehead, and with bothhands in his trousers-pockets creating disturbance among the keys andcoppers. "I might have known that she could not hold her tongue. Itwould never do to let Mrs Brooke remain on the tenter-hooks till Stridecomes home to clear the matter up. Poor Mrs Brooke! No wonder she isalmost broken down. This hoping against hope is so wearing. And she'sso lonely. To be sure, sweet May Leather runs out and in like a beam ofsunshine; but it must be hard, very hard, to lose an only son in thisway. It would be almost better to know that he was dead. H'm! andthere's that good-for-nothing Shank. The rascal! and yet he's notabsolutely good for nothing--if he would only give up drink. Well,while there's life there's hope, thank God! I'll give him anothertrial."
The old man's brow was severely wrinkled while he indulged in thesemutterings, but it cleared, and a kindly look beamed on his countenanceas he gave vent to the last expression.
Just then the door bell rang. Mr Crossley resumed the grave look thatwas habitual to hint and next minute Shank Leather was ushered into theroom.
The youth was considerably changed since we last met him. The yearwhich had passed had developed him into a man, and clothed his upper lipwith something visible to the naked eye. It had also lengthened hislimbs, deepened his chest, and broadened his shoulders. But here thechange for the better ended. In that space of time there had come overhim a decided air of dissipation, and the freshness suitable to youthhad disappeared.
With a look that was somewhat defiant he entered the room and lookedboldly at his employer.
"Be seated, Mr Leather," said the old gentleman in a voice so soft thatthe young man evidently felt abashed, but he as evidently steeledhimself against better feelings, for he replied--
"Thank you, Mr Crossley, I'd rather stand."
"As you please," returned the other, restraining himself. "I sent foryou, Mr Leather, to tell you that I have heard with sincere regret ofyour last outbreak, and--"
"Yes, sir," said Shank, rudely interrupting, "and I came here not somuch to hear what you have to say about my outbreak--as you are pleasedto style a little jollification--as to tell you that you had betterprovide yourself with another clerk, for I don't intend to return toyour office. I've got a better situation."
"Oh, indeed!" exclaimed Crossley in surprise.
"Yes, indeed," replied Shank insolently.
It was evident that the youth was, even at that moment, under theinfluence of his great enemy, else his better feelings would haveprevented him from speaking so rudely to a man who had never shown himanything but kindness. But he was nettled by some of his bad companionshaving taunted him with his slavery to his besetting sin, and hadresponded to Mr Crossley's summons under the impression that he wasgoing to get what he styled a "wigging." He was therefore takensomewhat aback when the old gentleman replied to his last remark gently.
"I congratulate you, Mr Leather, on getting a _better_ situation (if itreally should turn out to be better), and I sincerely hope it may--foryour mother's sake as well as your own. This therefore disposes of partof my object in asking you to call--which was to say that I meant topass over this offence and retain you in my employment. But it does notsupersede the necessity of my urging you earnestly to give up drink,_not_ so much on the ground that it will surely lead you to destructionas on the consideration that it grieves the loving Father who hasbestowed on you the very powers of enjoyment which you are nowprostituting, and who is at this moment holding out His hands to you and_waiting_ to be gracious."
The old man stopped abruptly, and Shank stood with eyes fixed on thefloor and frowning brow.
"Have you anything more to say to me?" asked Mr Crossley.
"Nothing."
"Then good-morning. As I can do nothing else to serve you, I will prayfor you."
Shank found himself in the street with feelings of surprise strong uponhim.
"Pray for me!" he muttered, as he walked slowly along. "It neveroccurred to me before that he prayed at all! The old humbug has moreneed to pray for himself!"