UncleRamsay, in a letter received one morning, announced his intention ofcoming from London, and making quite a long stay at Burley, Rupertdeclared his intention of mounting Scallowa, and riding over to thestation to meet him. And the boy was as good as his word. In orderthat they might be both cavaliers together, Uncle Ramsay hired a horseat D--, and the two rode joyfully home side by side.
His mother did not like to see that carmine flush on Rupert's cheeks,however, nor the extra dark sparkle in his eyes when he entered theparlour to announce his uncle's arrival, but she said nothing.
Uncle Ramsay Broadbent was a brother of the Squire, and, thoughconsiderably older, a good deal like him in all his ways. There was thesame dash and go in him, and the same smiling front, unlikely to bedismayed by any amount of misfortune.
"There are a deal of ups and downs in the ocean of life," Archie heardhim say one day; "we're on the top of a big wave one hour, and in thetrough of the sea next, so we must take things as they come."
Yes, this uncle was a seafarer; the skipper of a sturdy merchantman thathe had sailed in for ten long years. He did not care to be calledcaptain by anyone. He was a master mariner, and had an opinion, whichhe often expressed, that plain "Mr" was a gentleman's prefix.
"I shan't go back to sea again," he said next morning at breakfast.
"Fact is, brother, my owners think I'm getting too old. And maybethey're right. I've had a fair innings, and it is only fair to give theyoung ones a chance."
Uncle Ramsay seemed to give new life and soul to the old place. Hesettled completely down to the Burley style of life long before thesummer was half over. He joined the servants in the fields, and workedwith them as did the Squire, Walton, and Archie. And though moremerriment went on in consequence, there was nevertheless more work done.He took an interest in all the boys' "fads," spent hours with them intheir workshop, and made one in every game that was played on the grass.He was dreadfully awkward at cricket and tennis however; for such gamesas these are but little practised by sailors. Only he was right willingto learn.
There was a youthfulness and breeziness about Uncle Ramsay's everyaction, that few save seafarers possess when hair is turning white. Ofcourse, the skipper spent many a jolly hour up in the room of the CastleTower, and he did not object either to the presence of old Kate in thechair. He listened like a boy when she told her weird stories; and helistened more like a baby than anything else when Branson played hisfiddle.
Then he himself would spin them a yarn, and hold them all enthralled,especially big-eyed Elsie, with the sterling reality and graphicness ofthe narrative.
When Uncle Ramsay spoke you could see the waves in motion, hear thescream of the birds around the stern, or the wind roaring through therigging. He spoke as he thought; he painted from life.
Well, the arrival of Uncle Ramsay and Rupert's getting strong were twoof the pleasant changes that took place at Burley in this eventful year.Alas! I have to chronicle the sad ones also. Yet why sigh? To useUncle Ramsay's own words, "You never know what a ship is made of untilstormy seas are around you."
First then came a bad harvest--a terribly bad harvest. It was not thatthe crops themselves were so very light, but the weather was cold andwet; the grain took long to ripen. The task of cutting it down wasunfortunately an easy one, but the getting it stored was almost animpossibility. At the very time when it was ripe, and after a singlefiercely hot day, a thunder-storm came on, and with it such hail as theoldest inhabitant in the parish could not remember having seen equalled.This resulted in the total loss of far more of the precious seed, thanwould have sown all the land of Burley twice over.
The wet continued. It rained and rained every day, and when it rainedit poured.
The Squire had heard of a Yankee invention for drying wheat under cover,and rashly set about a rude but most expensive imitation thereof. Hefirst mentioned the matter to Uncle Ramsay at the breakfast-table. TheSquire seemed in excellent spirits that morning. He was walking brisklyup and down the room rubbing his hands, as if in deep but pleasantthought, when his brother came quietly in.
"Hullo! you lazy old sea-dog. Why you'd lie in your bed till the sunburned a hole in the blanket. Now just look at me."
"I'm just looking at you."
"Well, I've been up for hours. I'm as hungry as a Caithness Highlander.And I've got an idea."
"I thought there was something in the wind."
"Guess."
"Guess, indeed! Goodness forbid I should try. But I say, brother,"continued Uncle Ramsay, laughing, "couldn't you manage to fall asleepsomewhere out of doors, like the man in the story, and wake up and findyourself a king? My stars, wouldn't we have reforms as long as yourreign lasted! The breakfast, Mary? Ah, that's the style!"
"You won't be serious and listen, I suppose, Ramsay."
"Oh, yes; I will."
"Well, the Americans--"
"The Americans again; but go on."
"The Americans, in some parts where I've been, wouldn't lose a straw ina bad season. It is all done by means of great fanners and heated air,you know. Now, I'm going to show these honest Northumbrian farmers athing or two. I--"
"I say, brother, hadn't you better trust to Providence, and wait for afair wind?"
"Now, Ramsay, that's where you and I differ. You're a slow Moses. Iwant to move ahead a trifle in front of the times. I've been lookingall over the dictionary of my daily life, and I can't find such a wordas `wait' in it."
"Let me give you some of this steak, brother."
"My plan of operations, Ramsay, is--"
"Why," said Mrs Broadbent, "you haven't eaten anything yet!"
"I thought," said Uncle Ramsay, "you were as hungry as a TipperaryHighlander, or some such animal."
"My plan, Ramsay, is--" etc, etc.
The two "etc, etc's" in the last line stand for all the rest of thehonest Squire's speech, which, as his sailor brother said, was as longas the logline. But for all his hunger he made but a poor breakfast,and immediately after he jumped up and hurried away to the barn-yards.
It was a busy time for the next two weeks at Burley Old Farm, but, tothe Squire's credit be it said, he was pretty successful with hisstrange operation of drying wheat independent of the sun. His rickswere built, and he was happy--happy as long as he thought nothing aboutthe expense. But he did take an hour or two one evening to run throughaccounts, as he called it. Uncle Ramsay was with him.
"Why, brother," said Ramsay, looking very serious now indeed, "you areterribly down to leeward--awfully out of pocket!"
"Ah! never mind, Ramsay. One can't keep ahead of the times now-a-days,you know, without spending a little."
"Spending a little! Where are your other books? Mr Walton and I willhave a look through them to-night, if you don't mind."
"Not a bit, brother, not a bit. We're going to give a dance to-morrownight to the servants, so if you like to bother with the book-work I'llattend to the terpsichorean kick up."
Mr Walton and Uncle Ramsay had a snack in the office that eveninginstead of coming up to supper, and when Mrs Broadbent looked in to saygood-night she found them both quiet and hard at work.
"I say, Walton," said Uncle Ramsay some time after, "this is serious.Draw near the fire and let us have a talk."
"It is sad as well as serious," said Walton.
"Had you any idea of it?"
"Not the slightest. In fact I'm to blame, I think, for not seeing tothe books before. But the Squire--"
Walton hesitated.
"I know my brother well," said Ramsay. "As good a fellow as ever lived,but as headstrong as a nor'-easter. And now he has been spending moneyon machinery to the tune of some ten thousand pounds. He has beengrowing crop after crop of wheat as if he lived on the prairies and theland was new; and he has really been putting as much down in seed,labour, and fashionable manures as he has taken off."
"Yet," said Walton, "he is no fool."
"No, not he; he is clever, too much so. But h
eaven send his pride,honest though it be, does not result in a fall."
The two sat till long past twelve talking and planning, then they openedthe casement and walked out on to the lawn. It was a lovely autumnnight. The broad, round moon was high in the heavens, fighting its waythrough a sky of curdling clouds which greatly detracted from itsradiance.
"Look, Walton," said the sailor, "to windward; yonder it is all bluesky, by-and-by it will be a bright and lovely night."
"By-and-by. Yes," sighed Walton.
"But see! What is that down yonder rising
From Squire to Squatter: A Tale of the Old Land and the New Page 12
