The Lifeboat

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  TOMMY BOGEY FORMS A MIGHTY RESOLVE, AND MR. DENHAM, BEING PERPLEXED,BECOMES LIBERAL.

  When Tommy Bogey discovered the terrible fact that his friend Bax hadreally gone from him, perhaps for ever, he went straight up to thecottage, sat down on the kitchen floor at the feet of Mrs Laker, laidhis head on her lap, and wept as if his heart would break.

  "My poor boy!" said the sympathising Laker, stroking his head, andendeavouring to comfort him more by tone and manner than by words.

  But Tommy refused to be comforted. The strongest affection he had everknown was rudely and suddenly crushed. It was hard in Bax to have doneit; so Tommy felt, though he would not admit it in so many words. SoBax himself felt when the first wild rush of sorrow was past, and he hadleisure to consider the hasty step he had taken, while sailing away overthe distant sea towards the antipodes. Bitterly did he blame himselfand repent when repentance was of no avail.

  Tommy's grief was deep, but not loud. He did not express it with ahowling accompaniment. It burst from him in gasping sobs for a time,then it subsided into the recesses of his young heart and gnawed there.It did not again break bounds, but it somewhat changed the boy'scharacter. It made him almost a man in thought and action. Heexperienced that strong emotion which is known to most young hearts atcertain periods of early life, and which shows itself in the formationof a fixed resolve to take some prompt and mighty step! What that stepshould be he did not know at first, and did not care to know.Sufficient for him, that coming to an unalterable determination of someindefinite sort afforded him great relief.

  After the first paroxysm was over, Tommy rose up, kissed Mrs Laker onthe cheek, bade her goodnight with unwonted decision of manner, and wentstraight to the amphibious hut of his friend Bluenose, whom he foundtaking a one-eyed survey of the Downs through a telescope, from mereforce of habit.

  The Captain's name was more appropriate that day than it had been formany years. He was looking uncommonly "blue" indeed. He had just heardof the disappearance of Bax, for the news soon spread among the men onDeal beach. Being ignorant of the cause of his friend's suddendeparture, and knowing his deliberate, sensible nature, the wholesubject was involved in a degree of mystery which his philosophy utterlyfailed to clear up. Being a bachelor, and never having been in love, ormet with any striking incidents of a tender nature in his career, it didnot occur to him that woman could be at the bottom of it!

  "Uncle," said Tommy, "Bax is gone!"

  "Tommy, I knows it," was the brief reply, and the telescope was shut upwith a bang, as the seaman sat down on a little chest, and staredvacantly in the boy's face.

  "Why did he do it?" asked Tommy.

  "Dun' know. Who knows? S'pose he must ha' gone mad, though it don'tseem likely. If it wasn't Guy as told me I'd not believe it."

  "Does Guy not know why he's gone?"

  "Apperiently he does, but he says he's bound not to tell. Hope Baxhan't bin and done somethin' not 'xactly right--"

  "_Bax_ do anything not exactly right!" cried Tommy, with a look and toneof amazed indignation.

  "Right, lad, you're right," said Bluenose apologetically. "I've nodoubt myself he could explain it all quite clear if he wos here for todo so. That's my opinion; and I've no doubt either that the firstletter he sends home will make all straight an' snug, depend on it."

  "Uncle," said Tommy, "_I_ am going to Australia."

  Bluenose, who had just lighted his pipe, looked at the boy through thesmoke, smiled, and said, "No, Tommy, you ain't."

  "Uncle," repeated Tommy, "I am. I once heard Bax say he'd rather gothere than anywhere else, if he was to go abroad; so I'm certain he hasgone there, and I'm going to seek for him."

  "Wery good, my lad," said the Captain coolly; "d'ye go by steamerto-night, or by rail to-morrow mornin'? P'raps you'd better go bytelegraph; it's quicker, I'm told."

  "You think I'm jokin', Uncle, but I'm not, as you'll very soon findout."

  So saying, Tommy rose and left the hut. This was all he said on thesubject. He was a strong-minded little fellow. He at once assumed theposition of an independent man, and merely stated his intentions to oneor two intimate friends, such as Bluenose, Laker, and old Jeph. Asthese regarded his statement as the wild fancy of an enthusiastic boy inthe first gush of disappointment, they treated it with good-naturedraillery. So Tommy resolved, as he would have himself have expressedit, "to shut up, and keep his own counsel."

  When Guy told Lucy Burton that the man who had saved her life had goneoff thus suddenly, she burst into tears; but her tears had not flowedlong before she asked Guy the reason of his strange and abruptdeparture.

  Of course Guy could not tell. He had been pledged to secrecy as to thecause.

  When Lucy Burton went to tell Amy Russell, she did so with a tremblingheart. For some time past she had suspected that Amy loved Bax and notGuy, as she had at first mistakenly supposed. Knowing that if hersuspicions were true, the news would be terrible indeed to her friend,she considerately went to her room and told her privately.

  Amy turned deadly pale, stood speechless for a few seconds, and thenfainted in her friend's arms.

  On recovering she confessed her love, but made Lucy solemnly pledgeherself to secrecy.

  "No one shall ever know of this but yourself, dear Lucy," said Amy,laying her head on her friend's bosom, and finding relief in tears.

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  Time passed away, as time is wont to do, and it seemed as if Tommy Bogeyhad forgotten to carry out his determination. From that day forward henever referred to it, and the few friends to whom he had mentioned itsupposed that he had given up the idea altogether as impracticable.

  They did not know the mettle that Tommy was made of. After maturelyconsidering the matter, he had made up his mind to delay carrying outhis plan until Bax should have time to write home and acquaint him withhis whereabouts. Meanwhile, he would set himself to make and save upmoney by every means in his power, for he had sense enough to know thata moneyless traveller must be a helpless creature.

  Peekins was permanently received into Sandhill Cottage aspage-in-buttons, in which capacity he presented a miserably attenuatedfigure, but gave great satisfaction. Tommy and he continued goodfriends; the former devoting as much of his leisure time to the latteras he could spare. He had not much to spare, however, for he had, amongother things, set himself energetically to the study of arithmetic andnavigation under the united guidance of old Jeph and Bluenose.

  Lucy Burton paid a long visit to Mrs Foster, and roamed over theSandhills day after day with her friend Amy, until her father, themissionary, came and claimed her and carried her back to Ramsgate.During Lucy's stay, Guy Foster remained at the cottage, busily engagedin various ways, but especially in making himself agreeable to Lucy, inwhich effort he seemed to be very successful.

  When the latter left, he suddenly discovered that he was wasting histime sadly, and told his mother that he meant to look out for somethingto do. With this end in view he set out for London, that mighty hive ofindustry and idleness into which there is a ceaseless flow of men who"want something to do," and of men who "don't know what to do."

  And what of Denham, Crumps, and Company during this period?

  The rats in and around Red Wharf Lane could have told you, had they beenable to speak, that things prospered with that firm. These jovialcreatures, that revelled so luxuriously in the slime and mud andmiscellaneous abominations of that locality, could have told you that,every morning regularly, they were caught rioting in the lane and sentsquealing out of it, by a boy in blue (the successor of poor Peekins)who opened the office and prepared it for the business of the day; thatabout half an hour later they, the rats, were again disturbed by thearrival of the head-clerk, closely followed by the juniors, who werealmost as closely followed by Crumps--he being a timid old man who stoodin awe of his senior partner; that, after this, they had a good longperiod o
f comparative quiet, during which they held a riotous game ofhide-and-seek across the lane and down among sewers and dust holes, anddelightfully noisome and fetid places of a similar character;interrupted at irregular intervals by a vagrant street boy, or a daringcat, or an inquisitive cur; that this game was stopped at about teno'clock by the advent of Mr Denham, who generally gave them, the rats,a smile of recognition as he passed to his office, concluding, no doubt,by a natural process of ratiocination, that they were kindred spirits,because they delighted in bad smells and filthy garbage, just as he(Denham) rejoiced in Thames air and filthy lucre.

  One fine morning, speaking from a rat's point of view, when the air wasso thick and heavy and moist that it was difficult to see more than afew yards in any direction, Denham came down the lane about half-an-hourlater than usual, with a brisk step and an unusually smilingcountenance.

  Peekins' successor relieved him of his hat, topcoat, and umbrella, andone of the clerks brought him the letters. Before opening these heshouted--

  "Mr Crumps!"

  Crumps came meekly out of his cell, as if he had been a bad dog who knewhe deserved, and expected, a whipping.

  "Nothing wrong, I trust," he said anxiously.

  "No; on the contrary, everything right," (Crumps' old face brightened),"I've succeeded in getting that ship at what I call a real bargain--500less than I had anticipated and was prepared to give." (Crumps rubbedhis hands.) "Now, I mean to send this ship out to Australia, with amiscellaneous cargo, as soon as she can be got ready for sea. The goldfever is at its height just now, and it strikes me that, with a littlejudgment and prudence, a good thing may be made out there. At any rate,I mean to venture; for our speculations last year have, as you know,turned out well, with the exception of that unfortunate `Trident,' andwe are sufficiently in funds just at this time to afford to runconsiderable risk."

  Crumps expressed great satisfaction, and agreed with all that Denhamsaid. He also asked what the name of the new ship was to be.

  "The `Trident,'" said Mr Denham.

  "What! the name of the ship we lost in Saint Margaret's Bay?" exclaimedCrumps, in surprise.

  "I thought you knew the name of the ship we lost in Saint Margaret'sBay," said Denham sarcastically.

  "Of course, of course," replied Crumps, in some confusion, "but I mean--that is, don't you think it looks like flying in the face of Providenceto give it the same name?"

  "Mr Crumps," said Denham, with an air of dignified reproof, "it is mostunnatural, most uncalled for, to talk of Providence in connexion withbusiness. It is a word, sir, that may be appropriately used on Sundaysand in churches, but not in offices, and I beg that you will not againallude to it. There is no such thing, sir, as Providence in businessmatters--at least such is my opinion; and I say this in order that youmay understand that any remarks of that kind are quite thrown away onme. I am a plain practical man of business, Mr Crumps; once for all,allow me to say that, I object to the very unbusinesslike remarks of atheological nature which you are sometimes pleased to introduce into ourconversations. I again repeat that there is no such thing as Providencein business,--at all events, not in _my_ business."

  "I will not again offend you," said poor Crumps, who stood lookingconfused and moving his legs uneasily during the delivery of thisoration, "but as you have condescended to argue the matter slightly, mayI venture to hint that our ships are propelled chiefly by means ofsails, and that the winds are in the hands of Providence."

  "There, sir, I utterly disagree with you," retorted Denham, "the windsare guided in their courses by the fixed laws of Nature, and cannot bealtered or modified by the wishes or powers of man; therefore, it isquite unnecessary, because useless, to regard them in matters ofbusiness. I am utterly devoid, sir, of superstition; and it is partlyin order to make this clear to all with whom I have to do, that I intendto name our new ship the `Trident,' and to order her to sail on aFriday."

  As Mr Denham accompanied his last word with an inclination of the headwhich was equivalent to a dismissal, Mr Crumps sighed and retired tohis den. His practical and unsuperstitious partner opened and read theletters.

  While Denham was thus engaged a tap came to the door, and old MrSummers entered the room.

  "Ah! Summers, glad to see you, how are you?" said Denham, somewhatheartily--_for him_.

  "Thank you, Denham, I'm well," replied the benign old gentleman with asmile, as he fixed a pair of gold spectacles on his nose, and sat downin a most businesslike way to examine a bundle of papers which he pulledout of his coat-pocket.

  Mr Summers was a very old friend of Denham, and had been the friend ofhis father before him; but _that_ was not the reason of Denham's regardfor him. The old gentleman happened to be a merchant in the city, withwhom Denham, Crumps, and Company did extensive and advantageousbusiness. This was the cause of Denham's unwonted urbanity. He caredlittle for the old man's friendship. In fact, he would have dispensedwith it without much regret, for he was sometimes pressed to contributeto charities by his philanthropic friend.

  "See, I have settled that matter for you satisfactorily," said MrSummers; "there are the papers, which you can look over at yourleisure."

  "Thank you, Mr Summers," said Denham impressively, "this is _indeed_very kind of you. But for your interference in this affair I amconvinced that I should have lost a thousand pounds, if not more."

  "Indeed!" exclaimed the old gentleman with a bright smile, "come, I'mglad to hear you say so, and it makes my second errand all the moreeasy."

  "And what may your second errand be?" said Denham, with a sudden gravityof countenance, which showed that he more than suspected it.

  "Well, the fact is," began Summers, "it's a little matter of beggingthat I have undertaken for the purpose of raising funds to establish oneor two lifeboats on parts of our coast where they are very much needed.(Denham fidgeted in his chair.) You know I have a villa near Deal, andfrequently witness the terrible scenes of shipwreck that are so commonand so fatal on that coast. I am sorry to say that my beggingexpedition has not been attended with so much success as I hadanticipated. It is not such agreeable work as one might suppose, Iassure you, one gets so many unexpected rebuffs. Did you ever trybegging, Denham?"

  Denham said he never had, and, unless reduced to it by circumstances,did not mean to do so!

  "Ah," continued Mr Summers, "if you ever do try you'll be surprised tofind how difficult it is to screw money out of some people." (MrDenham thought that that difficulty would not surprise him at all.) "Butyou'll be delighted to find, on the other hand, what a number of trulyliberal souls there are. It's quite a treat, for instance, to meet witha man,--as I did the other day,--who gives his charity in the light ofsuch principles as these:--`The Lord loveth a cheerful giver;' `It ismore blessed to give than to receive;' `He that giveth to the poorlendeth to the Lord,'--one who lays aside a certain proportion of hisincome for charitable purposes, and who, therefore, knowing exactly howmuch he has to give at any moment, gives or refuses, as the case may be,promptly and with a good grace."

  "Ha!" exclaimed Denham, whose soul abhorred this sort of talk, but whoseself-interest compelled him to listen to it.

  "Really," pursued Mr Summers, "it is quite interesting to study theouts and ins of Christian philanthropy. Have you ever given muchattention to the subject, Mr Denham? Of course, I mean in aphilosophical way."

  "Ha a-hem! well, I cannot say that I have, except perhaps in my capacityof a poor-law guardian in this district of the city."

  "Indeed, I would recommend it to you. It is quite a relief to men ofbusiness like you and me, who are necessarily swallowed up all day inthe matter of making money, to have the mind occasionally directed tothe consideration of the best methods of getting rid of a little oftheir superabundance. It would do them a world of good--I can safelysay so from experience--to consider such matters. I daresay that youalso know something of this from experience."

  "Ha!" ejaculated Mr Denham, who felt himself getting internally war
m,but was constrained (of course from disinterested motives) to keep cooland appear amiable.

  "But forgive my taking up so much of your time, my dear sir," said MrSummers, rising; "what shall I put you down for?"

  Denham groaned inaudibly and said, "Well, I've no objection to givetwenty pounds."

  "How much?" said the old gentleman, as though he had heard imperfectly,at the same time pulling out a notebook.

  There was a slight peculiarity in the tone of the question that inducedDenham to say he would give fifty pounds.

  "Ah! fifty," said Summers, preparing to write, "thank you, Mr Denham(here he looked up gravely and added), the subject, however, is onewhich deserves liberal consideration at the hands of society in general;_especially of ship owners_. Shall we say a hundred, my dear sir?"

  Denham was about to plead poverty, but recollecting that he had justadmitted that his friend had been the means of saving a thousand poundsto the business, he said, "Well, let it be a hundred," with the bestgrace he could.

  "Thank you, Mr Denham, a thousand thanks," said the old gentleman,shaking his friend's hand, and quitting the room with the active step ofa man who had much more business to do that day before dinner.

  Mr Denham returned to the perusal of his letters with the feelings of aman who has come by a heavy loss. Yet, strange to say, he comfortedhimself on his way home that evening with the thought that, after all,he had done a liberal thing! that he had "given away a hundred poundssterling in charity."

  _Given_ it! Poor Denham! he did not know that, up to that period, hehad never _given_ away a single farthing of his wealth in the truespirit of liberality--although he had given much in the name of charity.