by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER V: ALONE IN THE WORLD
"What am I to do?"
A difficult question indeed, for a boy of fifteen, with but twenty-fivepounds, and without a friend in the world. Was he, indeed, without afriend? he asked himself. There was Dr. Parker. Should he apply to him?But the doctor had started for a trip on the Continent the day afterthe school had broken up, and would not return for six weeks. It waspossible that, had he been at home, he might have offered to keep Frankfor a while; but the boys seldom stayed at his school past the ageof fifteen, going elsewhere to have their education completed. Whatpossible claim had he to quarter himself upon the doctor for the nextfour years, even were the offer made? No, Frank felt; he could not liveupon the doctor's charity. Then there were the parents of the boys hehad saved from drowning. But even as he sat alone Frank's face flushedat the thought of trading upon services so rendered. The boy's chieffault was pride. It was no petty feeling, and he had felt no shame atbeing poorer than the rest of his schoolfellows. It was rather a pridewhich led him unduly to rely upon himself, and to shrink from acceptingfavors from any one. Frank might well, without any derogation, havewritten to his friends, telling them of the loss he had suffered and thenecessity there was for him to earn his living, and asking them to begtheir fathers to use their interest to procure him a situation as a boyclerk, or any other position in which he could earn his livelihood.
Frank, however, shrunk from making any such appeal, and determinedto fight his battle without asking for help. He knew nothing of hisparents' relations. His father was an only son, who had been left earlyan orphan. His mother, too, had, he was aware, lost both her parents,and he had never heard her speak of other relations. There was no one,therefore, so far as he knew, to whom he could appeal on the ground ofties of blood. It must be said for him that he had no idea how hard wasthe task which he was undertaking. It seemed to him that it must be easyfor a strong, active lad to find employment of some sort in London. Whatthe employment might be he cared little for. He had no pride of thatkind, and so that he could earn his bread he cared not much in whatcapacity he might do it.
Already preparations had been made for the sale of the furniture,which was to take place next day. Everything was to be sold except thescientific books which had belonged to his father. These had been packedin a great box until the time when he might place them in a library ofhis own, and the doctor kindly offered to keep it for him until suchtime should arrive. Frank wrote a long letter to Ruthven, telling him ofhis loss, and his reasons for leaving Deal, and promising to write someday and tell him how he was getting on in London. This letter he didnot intend to post until the last thing before leaving Deal. Lucy hadalready gone to her new home, and Frank felt confident that she would behappy there. His friend, the doctor, who had tried strongly, but withoutavail, to dissuade Frank from going up to London to seek his fortunethere, had promised that if the lad referred any inquiries to him hewould answer for his character.
He went down to the beach the last evening and said goodbye to hisfriends among the fishermen, and he walked over in the afternoon andtook his last meal with Farmer Gregson.
"Look ye here, my lad," the farmer said as they parted. "I tell ye, fromwhat I've heerd, this London be a hard nut to crack. There be plenty ofkernel, no doubt, when you can get at it, but it be hard work to openthe shell. Now, if so be as at any time you run short of money, justdrop me a line, and there's ten pound at your service whenever you like.Don't you think it's an obligation. Quite the other way. It would be areal pleasure to me to lend you a helping hand."
Two days after the sale Frank started for London. On getting out of thetrain he felt strange and lonely amid the bustle and confusion which wasgoing on on the platform. The doctor had advised him to ask one ofthe porters, or a policeman, if he could recommend him to a quiet andrespectable lodging, as expenses at an hotel would soon make a deephole in his money. He, therefore, as soon as the crowd cleared away,addressed himself to one of the porters.
"What sort of lodgings do you want, sir?" the man said, looking at himrather suspiciously, with, as Frank saw, a strong idea in his mind thathe was a runaway schoolboy.
"I only want one room," he said, "and I don't care how small it is, sothat it is clean and quiet. I shall be out all day, and should not givemuch trouble."
The porter went away and spoke to some of his mates, and presentlyreturned with one of them.
"You're wanting a room I hear, sir," the man said. "I have a littlehouse down the Old Kent Road, and my missus lets a room or two. It'squiet and clean, I'll warrant you. We have one room vacant at present."
"I'm sure that would suit me very well," Frank said. "How much do youcharge a week?"
"Three and sixpence, sir, if you don't want any cooking done."
Frank took the address, and leaving his portmanteau in charge of theporter, who promised, unless he heard to the contrary, that he wouldbring it home with him when he had done his work, he set off from thestation.
Deal is one of the quietest and most dreary places on the coast ofEngland, and Frank was perfectly astounded at the crowd and bustle whichfilled the street, when he issued from the railway approach, at the footof London Bridge. The porter had told him that he was to turn tohis left, and keep straight along until he reached the "Elephant andCastle." He had, therefore, no trouble about his road, and was able togive his whole attention to the sights which met his eye. For a timethe stream of omnibuses, cabs, heavy wagons, and light carts, completelybewildered him, as did the throng of people who hastened along thefootway. He was depressed rather than exhilarated at the sight of thisbusy multitude. He seemed such a solitary atom in the midst of thisgreat moving crowd. Presently, however, the thought that where somany millions gained their living there must be room for one boy more,somewhat cheered him. He was a long time making his way to his place ofdestination, for he stared into every shop window, and being, althoughhe was perfectly ignorant of the fact, on the wrong side of thepavement, he was bumped and bustled continually, and was not longin arriving at the conclusion that the people of London must be theroughest and rudest in the world. It was not until he ran against agentleman, and was greeted with the angry, "now then, boy. Where are yougoing? Why the deuce don't you keep on your own side of the pavement?"that he perceived that the moving throng was divided into two currents,that on the inside meeting him, while the outside stream was proceedingin the same direction as himself. After this he got on better, andarrived without adventure at the house of the porter, in the Old KentRoad.
It was a small house, but was clean and respectable, and Frank foundthat the room would suit him well.
"I do not wait upon the lodgers," the landlady said, "except to make thebeds and tidy the rooms in the morning. So if you want breakfast and teaat home you will have to get them yourself. There is a separate placedownstairs for your coals. There are some tea things, plates anddishes, in this cupboard. You will want to buy a small tea kettle, and agridiron, and a frying pan, in case you want a chop or a rasher. Do youthink you can cook them yourself?"
"Frank, amused at the thought of cooking and catering for himself, saidboldly that he should soon learn.
"You are a very young gentleman," the landlady said, eyeing himdoubtfully, "to be setting up on your own hook. I mean," she said,seeing Frank look puzzled, "setting up housekeeping on your own account.You will have to be particular careful with the frying pan, becauseif you were to upset the fat in the fire you might have the house in ablaze in a jiffey."
Frank said that he would certainly be careful with the frying pan.
"Well," she went on, "as you're a stranger to the place I don't knowas you could do better than get your tea, and sugar, and things at thegrocer's at the next corner. I deals there myself, and he gives everysatisfaction. My baker will be round in a few minutes, and, if youlikes, I can take in your bread for you. The same with milk."
These matters being arranged, and Frank agreeing at once to theproposition that as he was a stranger it wo
uld make things morecomfortable were he to pay his rent in advance, found himself alone inhis new apartment. It was a room about ten feet square. The bed occupiedone corner, with the washstand at its foot. There was a small table infront of the fireplace, and two chairs; a piece of carpet half coveredthe floor, and these with the addition of the articles in the cupboardconstituted the furniture of the room. Feeling hungry after his journeyFrank resolved to go out at once and get something to eat, and thento lay in a stock of provisions. After some hesitation regarding thecharacter of the meal he decided upon two Bath buns, determining to makea substantial tea. He laid in a supply of tea, sugar, butter, and salt,bought a little kettle, a frying pan, and a gridiron. Then he hesitatedas to whether he should venture upon a mutton chop or some bacon,deciding finally in favor of the latter, upon the reflection that anyfellow could see whether bacon were properly frizzled up, while as toa chop there was no seeing anything about it till one cut it. He,therefore, invested in a pound of prime streaky Wiltshire bacon,the very best, as the shopman informed him, that could be bought. Hereturned carrying all his purchases, with the exception of the hardware.Then he inquired of his landlady where he could get coal.
"The green grocer's round the corner," the landlady said. "Tell him tosend in a hundredweight of the best, that's a shilling, and you'll wantsome firewood too."
The coal arrived in the course of the afternoon, and at half past sixthe porter came in with Frank's trunk. He had by this time lit a fire,and while the water was boiling got some of his things out of the box,and by hanging some clothes on the pegs on the back of the door, and byputting the two or three favorite books he had brought with him on tothe mantelpiece, he gave the room a more homelike appearance. He enjoyedhis tea all the more from the novelty of having to prepare it himself,and succeeded very fairly for a first attempt with his bacon.
When tea was over he first washed up the things and then started for aramble. He followed the broad straight road to Waterloo Bridge, stoodfor a long time looking at the river, and then crossed into the Strand.The lamps were now alight and the brightness and bustle of the scenegreatly interested him. At nine o'clock he returned to his lodgings, butwas again obliged to sally out, as he found he had forgotten candles.
After breakfast next morning he went out and bought a newspaper, and sethimself to work to study the advertisements. He was dismayed to find howmany more applicants there were for places than places requiring to befilled. All the persons advertising were older than himself, and seemedto possess various accomplishments in the way of languages; many toocould be strongly recommended from their last situation. The prospectdid not look hopeful. In the first place he had looked to see if anyrequired boy clerks, but this species of assistant appeared little indemand; and then, although he hoped that it would not come to that, heran his eye down the columns to see if any required errand boys or ladsin manufacturing businesses. He found, however, no such advertisements.However, as he said to himself, it could not be expected that he shouldfind a place waiting for him on the very day after his arrival, and thathe ought to be able to live for a year on his five and twenty pounds; atthis reflection his spirits rose and he went out again for a walk.
For the first week, indeed, of his arrival in London Frank did not sethimself very earnestly to work to look for a situation. In his walksabout the streets he several times observed cards in the windowindicating that an errand boy was wanted. He resolved, however, thatthis should be the last resource which he would adopt, as he would muchprefer to go to work as a common lad in a factory to serving in a shop.After the first week he answered many advertisements, but in no casereceived a reply. In one case, in which it was stated that a lad whocould write a good fast hand was required in an office, wages to beginwith eight shillings a week, he called two days after writing. It wasa small office with a solitary clerk sitting in it. The latter, uponlearning Frank's business, replied with some exasperation that his mindwas being worried out by boys.
"We have had four hundred and thirty letters," he said; "and I shouldthink that a hundred boys must have called. We took the first whoapplied, and all the other letters were chucked into the fire as soon aswe saw what they were about."
Frank returned to the street greatly disheartened.
"Four hundred and thirty letters!" he said. "Four hundred and thirtyother fellows on the lookout, just as I am, for a place as a boy clerk,and lots of them, no doubt, with friends and relations to recommendthem! The lookout seems to be a bad one."
Two days later, when Frank was walking along the strand he noticed theplacards in front of a theater.
"Gallery one shilling!" he said to himself; "I will go. I have neverseen a theater yet."
The play was The Merchant of Venice, and Frank sat in rapt attentionand interest through it. When the performance was over he walked brisklyhomewards. When he had proceeded some distance he saw a glare in the skyahead, and presently a steam engine dashed past him at full speed.
"That must be a house on fire," he said. "I have never seen a fire;" andhe broke into a run.
Others were running in the same direction, and as he passed the"Elephant and Castle" the crowd became thicker, and when within fiftyyards of the house he could no longer advance. He could see the flamesnow rising high in the air. A horrible fear seized him.
"It must be," he exclaimed to himself, "either our house or the one nextdoor."
It was in vain that he pressed forward to see more nearly. A line ofpolicemen was drawn up across the road to keep a large space clear forthe firemen. Behind the policemen the crowd were thickly packed. Frankinquired of many who stood near him if they could tell him the number ofthe house which was on fire; but none could inform him.
Presently the flames began to die away, and the crowd to disperse. Atlength Frank reached the first line of spectators.
"Can you tell me the number of the houses which are burned?" Frank saidto a policeman.
"There are two of them," the policeman said "a hundred and four and ahundred and five. A hundred and four caught first, and they say that awoman and two children have been burned to death."
"That is where I live!" Frank cried. "Oh, please let me pass!"
"I'll pass you in," the policeman said good naturedly, and he led himforward to the spot where the engines were playing upon the burninghouses. "Is it true, mate," he asked a fireman, "that a woman and twochildren have been burned?"
"It's true enough," the fireman said. "The landlady and her children.Her husband was a porter at the railway station, and had been detainedon overtime. He only came back a quarter of an hour ago, and he's beengoing on like a madman;" and he pointed to the porter, who was sittingdown on the doorsteps of a house facing his own, with his face hidden inhis hands.
Frank went and sat down beside him.
"My poor fellow," he said, "I am sorry for you."
Frank had had many chats with his landlord of an evening, and had becomequite friendly with him and his wife.
"I can't believe it," the man said huskily. "Just to think! When I wentout this morning there was Jane and the kids, as well and as happy asever, and there, where are they now?"
"Happier still," Frank said gently. "I lost my mother just as suddenlyonly five weeks ago. I went out for a walk, leaving her as well asusual, and when I came back she was dead; so I can feel for you with allmy heart."
"I would have given my life for them," the man said, wiping his eyes,"willing."
"I'm sure you would," Frank answered.
"There's the home gone," the man said, "with all the things that it tookten years' savings of Jane and me to buy; not that that matters one wayor the other now. And your traps are gone, too, I suppose, sir."
"Yes," Frank replied quietly, "I have lost my clothes and twenty-threepounds in money; every penny I've got in the world except half a crownin my pocket."
"And you don't say nothing about it!" the man said, roused intoanimation. "But, there, perhaps you've friends as will make it up toyou."
> "I have no one in the world," Frank answered, "whom I could ask to giveme a helping hand."
"Well, you are a plucky chap," the man said. "That would be a knock downblow to a man, let alone a boy like you. What are you going to do now?"he asked, forgetting for the moment his own loss, in his interest in hiscompanion.
"I don't know," Frank replied. "Perhaps," he added, seeing that theinterest in his condition roused the poor fellow from the thought ofhis own deep sorrow, "you might give me some advice. I was thinking ofgetting a place in an office, but of course I must give that up now, andshould be thankful to get anything by which I can earn my bread."
"You come along with me," the man said rising. "You've done me a heap ofgood. It's no use sitting here. I shall go back to the station, and turnin on some sacks. If you've nothing better to do, and nowhere to go to,you come along with me. We will talk it all over."
Pleased to have some one to talk to, and glad that he should not have tolook for a place to sleep, Frank accompanied the porter to the station.With a word or two to the nightmen on duty, the porter led the way to ashed near the station, where a number of sacks were heaped in a corner.
"Now," the man said, "I will light a pipe. It's against the regulations,but that's neither here nor there now. Now, if you're not sleepy, wouldyou mind talking to me? Tell me something about yourself, and how youcome to be alone here in London. It does me good to talk. It prevents mefrom thinking."
"There is very little to tell," Frank said; and he related to him thecircumstances of the deaths of his father and mother, and how it camethat he was alone in London in search of a place.
"You're in a fix," the porter said.
"Yes, I can see that."
"You see you're young for most work, and you never had no practicewith horses, or you might have got a place to drive a light cart. Then,again, your knowing nothing of London is against you as an errand boy;and what's worse than all this, anyone can see with half an eye thatyou're a gentleman, and not accustomed to hard work. However, we willthink it over. The daylight's breaking now, and I has to be at work atsix. But look ye here, young fellow, tomorrow I've got to look for aroom, and when I gets it there's half of it for you, if you're not tooproud to accept it. It will be doing me a real kindness, I can tell you,for what I am to do alone of an evening without Jane and the kids, Godknows. I can't believe they're gone yet."
Then the man threw himself down upon the sacks, and broke into sobs.Frank listened for half an hour till these gradually died away, and heknew by the regular breathing that his companion was asleep. It was longafter this before he himself closed his eyes. The position did, indeed,appear a dark one. Thanks to the offer of his companion, which he atonce resolved to accept for a time, he would have a roof to sleep under.But this could not last; and what was he to do? Perhaps he had beenwrong in not writing at once to Ruthven and his schoolfellows. He evenfelt sure he had been wrong; but it would be ten times as hard to writenow. He would rather starve than do this. How was he to earn his living?He would, he determined, at any rate try for a few days to procure aplace as an errand boy. If that failed, he would sell his clothes, andget a rough working suit. He was sure that he should have more chance ofobtaining work in such a dress than in his present attire.
Musing thus, Frank at last dropped off to sleep. When he woke he foundhimself alone, his companion having left without disturbing him. Fromthe noises around him of trains coming in and out, Frank judged that thehour was late.
"I have done one wise thing," he said, "anyhow, and as far as I cansee it's the only one, in leaving my watch with the doctor to keep. Hepointed out that I might have it stolen if I carried it, and that therewas no use in keeping it shut up in a box. Very possibly it might bestolen by the dishonesty of a servant. That's safe anyhow, and it is myonly worldly possession, except the books, and I would rather go intothe workhouse than part with either of them."
Rising, he made his way into the station, where he found the porter athis usual work.
"I would not wake you," the man said; "you were sleeping so quiet, and Iknew 'twas no use your getting up early. I shall go out and settle fora room at dinner time. If you will come here at six o'clock we'll gooff together. The mates have all been very kind, and have been making acollection to bury my poor girl and the kids. They've found 'em, and theinquest is tomorrow, so I shall be off work. The governor has offeredme a week; but there, I'd rather be here where there's no time forthinking, than hanging about with nothing to do but to drink."
