Her Benny: A Story of Street Life

by Silas K. Hocking

  CHAPTER III.

  Roughing it.

  Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God, the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still. --Wordsworth

  Next morning Benny was stirring early, and when the first faint rays ofthe coming day peeped through the dust-begrimed and patched-up window,they saw the little fellow busily engaged in gathering together whatthings he and Nelly possessed previous to their final departure fromhome.

  Nelly still slept on, and several times the brother paused and lookedfondly down upon the fair face of the sleeping child. She looked verybeautiful, Benny thought, as she lay sleeping there, with a pink spotglowing on either cheek, and the long flaxen hair thrown carelessly backfrom the pale forehead. Once or twice she murmured in her sheep, and thesame happy smile spread over her face that he had noticed the eveningbefore when she sat gazing into Joe Wrag's fire.

  "I wonder what she's a-dreamin' on?" he murmured to himself. "Perhapsshe sees the hills and flowers and trees agin."

  Then he set to work again turning over a heap of rubbish that had beenpushed as far back as possible under the stairs. At length a joyfulexclamation burst from his lips as he came upon a small heap of potatoes.

  "Here's a fortin', an' no mistake; Nell and I'll be able to walk off thelot."

  And he brought them out into the room, and wrapped them up in an oldhandkerchief that his stepmother used to tie round her head when shewent out. There were scarcely twenty potatoes altogether, but to Bennythey seemed almost an inexhaustible supply.

  This being done, he sat down beside his sleeping sister and waited untilhe should hear any movement in the room above. Gradually the cold greylight of the morning stole into the room, revealing all its squalor anddinginess, and Benny felt that he and Nelly would have to make theirescape soon, or else they might be prevented. He felt very loth to awakehis sister, she slept so sweetly, and he did not know where they mightfind a shelter when darkness covered the earth again. But there was nohelp for it. His father might awake any moment, and the neighbours wouldsoon be stirring in the court and in Bowker's Row. So bending over her,he pressed his lips upon her brow: still she moved not.

  "Nelly," he whispered, "it's time to be movin'."

  Slowly the great round eyes opened, and looked languidly up into hisface.

  "Come, stir your pegs, Nell, or we'll be too late."

  "Oh, ay," she said, as the recollection of the previous evening cameback to her. "We 'as to be off to-day, ain't we?"

  "Ay, my gal, we's goin' on our own 'ook now, so look alive."

  "Does yer think we's doin' right, Benny?"

  "'Course we is, Nell; I'll take care o' yer, never fear."

  Thus reassured, she followed Benny silently out of the house and intoBowker's Row; then seeing that no one was about, they set off at a quicktrot in the direction from whence they had come the previous night.

  Nelly had the utmost confidence in Benny's sagacity, and though she haddoubted for a moment whether they were doing the wisest thing in thecourse they were taking, yet she had little doubt that her brother wouldbe equal to every emergency, and that he would find her a home of somesort. And the child had a vague, undefined feeling that they could notbe worse off, whatever might happen. To see her Benny punished as shehad so frequently done of late was "pain and grief" to her: not only hadhe suffered the pinchings of cold and hunger during the day, but he hadbeen compelled to bring home a certain amount every night, or else takethe consequences of her father's senseless anger.

  And as the child thought of these things she could not wonder that Bennyhad resolved to run away and seek a home somewhere else. But what ofherself? She had on the whole been much better treated, and she thoughtperhaps her father did not well know what he was doing last night, ashe was in drink. Ought she, then, to run away? "Ay, but I canna leaveBenny," was her mental response; and having settled that question,she seemed perfectly satisfied to share the fortunes of her brother,whatever they might be, and help him as best she could to fight thebattle of life.

  As for Benny, he had no qualms of conscience about the matter. He hadnever heard the command,

  "Honour thy father and thy mother," and even if he had, it would nothave troubled him on the present occasion. He had a feeling that he hadbeen wronged, cruelly wronged, and that he ought not to stand it anylonger. Once the question had crossed his mind, "Had he any right totake those potatoes?" But he answered the question to himself by saying,"Ain't I brought home a haaf a bob every night for th' week, an' thenbin kep' without supper? By jabbers, I's paid for those taters, and I'lleat 'em." Moreover, his notions of right and wrong were of the vaguestcharacter. He had some dim recollection of his mother, and how she usedto tell him it was wrong to steal, and to tell lies, and to cheat. Butthe more he tried to recall it, the vaguer the recollection became. Yetsometimes when he was tempted to steal, and would look around to seethat no one was watching him, a voice within him would whisper, "Don't,Benny, it is wrong to steal," and he would turn away with a sigh,feeling that there was something in that voice that he dared not disobey.

  In after years he held firmly to the belief that his own mother waspermitted to be the guardian angel of his childhood, and that it wasshe who whispered to him when he was tempted to do wrong. He hasalso been heard to say, that though he regarded it as very wrong forchildren, under ordinary circumstances, to leave their home withouttheir parents' consent, yet in his case he thought his action perfectlyjustifiable.

  But we must leave this question, with the hope that none of the childrenwho read this story may be driven by cruelty and wrong to a similarcourse of action, and must follow the little waifs as they threadedtheir way through the dingy streets that cold December morning. Theirobject was to reach Joe Wrag's fire before his watch ended, and in thisthey were successful. Joe was standing before his hut, rubbing his handsover the still glowing grate, though Benny noticed that the fire wasburning low.

  "We's brought some taters from hum, may we cook 'em on yer fire, Joe?"said Benny, putting on as bold a face as he could. Joe looked at thechildren for a moment without speaking.

  "Please do, Joe, like a good man," chimed in Nelly's plaintive voice.

  "Come along with yer, then. But how are 'e out so airly?"

  "Lots o' bisness on hand," was Benny's prompt reply.

  "There's some'at up wi' you youngsters, I reckon. But yer not goin' toeat all these taters at once, are yer?"

  "Oh, no!" said Benny, "we on'y want two apiece, and we want you to keepthe rest till we comes agin."

  "Very likely story," said Joe, gruffly. "Where's yer bin stealin' 'emfrom?"

  "Oh, nowheres, Joe," said Nelly. "We bringed 'em from hum, we did, forsure."

  "Well, ain't that a-stealin' on 'em?"

  "No!" said Benny stoutly. "I's tooked 'em hum a haaf a bob every nightfor t' week, and they b'longs to me."

  Joe shook his head dubiously, as if not certain of the soundness ofBenny's logic, but made no further reply. He, however, gave his aidto the children in cooking their potatoes, which were soon done to anicety, and even gave them a piece of bread, the remains of his ownmorning's repast. Thus fortified, the children were soon ready for theduties of the day.

  Their first business was to go into Park Lane and get in a stock ofmatches for the day's sale; this done, they separated and went theirdifferent ways, agreeing to meet in the shadow of St. George's Church attwelve o'clock, and at four, to report progress.

  Nelly's stand was near the junction of Lord Street, Church Street,Paradise Street, and Whitechapel, going occasionally as far as the"Sailors' Home." Benny, on the other hand, waited about near thelanding-stage, selling his matches if he could, but at the same timelooking out for an opportunity of carrying some gentleman's bag.

  But to-day Benny had another object in view, and that was to discover,if possible, some place where he and his sister might sleep when nightcame on. He knew
of a place where, for the payment of a penny each, theymight sleep in a cellar on some dirty straw amongst a lot of rough boys.But somehow Benny shrank from introducing his sister to such company asthere assembled night after night. He must find some place where theycould be alone, if possible, though he felt that that would be no easymatter.

  The day was beautifully fine, with a clear frosty sky, and both Bennyand his sister carried on a brisk sale in fusees, and when they met atnoon they were in high spirits over the proceeds of the day. Still Bennyhad found no place as yet where to spend the night.

  During the afternoon, however, his attention was directed to somesailors who were caulking a boat not far from the George's Dock. Theboat he noticed was turned bottom upward, and that it had one end stovein; evidently it had had rough handling somewhere. And besides this,Benny noticed that there was a large quantity of hemp and tow on whichthe sailors were kneeling while at their work. Several times during theafternoon he took a look at the sailors, and when at length he saw themlift up the boat and push the tow underneath, his mind was made up.

  "Stunnin'!" he ejaculated; "I b'lieve we is in luck's way to-day.Couldna have bin better if it wer' a-made for us."

  Punctually at four o'clock the children were at their trysting-place.They were both in high spirits, for their profits were larger than theyhad been for many a day past. Benny especially was in high glee, for hehad the prospect of a comfortable lodging-place for the night, withoutany fear of his father's fury, and was consequently eager to communicatehis discovery to Nelly.

  "Golly, Nell," was his greeting, using his favourite expression, "it's aheap too cold to stick in one place. Let's off into Park Lane and git afeed; we can 'ford it to-night."

  And off they started, hand in hand. The place to which they directedtheir steps was not the most select, the character of the customersbeing of no consequence, so long as the money was forthcoming. This factwas well known to Benny, so he entered, leading his sister by the hand,without any trepidation. It was a long narrow room in which they foundthemselves, with several small tables placed at regular intervals downthe sides. A bright fire was burning in the farther end of the room,near which Benny took his seat, requesting that "two penny loaves mightbe brought, and a pennorth of cheese."

  They remained as long as they felt they dared do so, then again soughtthe wintry streets. But the keen frosty air made them long for shelter,and once more they sought the glowing grate of honest Joe Wrag. Theold man seemed pleased to see them, and made room for them in his hut,though he said little. Oh, how the fire glowed and crackled in the keenfrosty air, revealing to little Nelly Bates scenes of wondrous beauty!And as Joe watched her face glowing in the firelight, he muttered tohimself, "Purty little hangel; I hopes she'll grow up good, or--ordie--ay, or die!"

  It was after eight o'clock when they left Joe's warm hut, for Nelly hadpleaded so hard to stay that he could not deny her request. She seemedto be twining herself around the old man's heart in a wonderful manner,and but for his fury of a wife he would have taken her to his own homewhen it became known to him that the children were homeless.

  It did not take them long to reach the boat; and having satisfiedthemselves that they were not noticed, they crept underneath in a"jiffey," as Benny would have expressed it.

  "Brimstone and treacle!" said Benny, as he put his hand on the largeheap of tow; "ain't this sumpshus? We'll be as snug as Jonar 'ere."

  "Ay, Benny, this is fine."

  "Let's shut out all the daylight fust, Nell, an' then the cold won't gitin."

  Thanks to the abundance of tow this was not difficult, and soon thechildren were cuddled in each other's arms, feeling warmer than they hadfelt for many a night past. It was a long time, however, before theycould get to sleep. To Nelly especially was it strange. And thoughts toodeep for them to express kept crowding into their minds, keeping themwide awake.

  At length, however, a feeling of drowsiness began to creep over them,and they were just dropping off to sleep when they were startled by afootstep near them, and a hoarse voice muttering, as if in anguish, "ODeath, what dost thou mean?"

  For a moment the children clutched each other in terror; then they heardthe footsteps dying away in the distance, and their confidence returnedagain.

  "Who could it be?" said Nelly.

  "A bobby, I 'specks," said Benny; "but he ain't catched us, so we's safe'nough now."

  For awhile after they lay listening, but no other footsteps disturbedthem, and soon balmy sleep stole over them, sealing their eyelids, andgiving rest to their weary little heads and hearts.