Ben Hadden; or, Do Right Whatever Comes Of It

by William Henry Giles Kingston

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  A SORROWFUL HOME AND A NEW FRIEND.

  As day after day passed away, Mrs Hadden ceased to hope. Neither JohnHadden nor any of his companions were ever again heard of. There couldbe no doubt that they had been lost in their gallant attempt to carrysuccour to their fellow-creatures on the wreck. Mrs Hadden was a widowand little Ben was fatherless.

  "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth," repeated the bereaved woman overand over to herself. "Oh, may He in His mercy give me strength to bearthe lot He has thought fit in His wisdom to prepare for me, and make itprofitable to my soul."

  She had many trials to bear. Her husband and sons, those able tosupport her, were gone; and some time passed before she could gatherstrength to arouse herself to consider what she could do for thesustenance of little Ben and herself. He was willing and eager to work,though he could not hope to gain much as yet. He soon had also anotherbesides his mother and himself to work for. One of his sisters atservice fell ill, and had to come home and be nursed; and, poor girl, itmade her feel worse to know that she was thus trespassing on hermother's scanty means; though little Ben did his best to cheer her up,telling her that it was just a double pleasure to have two to work forbesides himself, instead of only one.

  He did his best certainly, though that was but little. His motherentreated him not to go out in the fishing-boats, for she dreaded (andthat was but natural) that the same fate which had befallen his fatherand brothers might overtake him. He, however, bought, on credit, fishcaught by others, and all the fishermen were ready to trust him. Hecarried them for sale to the houses of the neighbouring gentry andfarmers. Sometimes, with his basket at his back, he got a lift in acart to the nearest town, where, in the summer season, he was able toobtain a better price than he usually asked of his regular countrycustomers. People who had once dealt with him were always ready to dealagain. They found that they could without fail trust him. He couldalways tell the day, and almost the very hour, the fish he had to sellhad been caught, and his customers found from experience that he neverdeceived them. At the first, when in a frank manner he told them theexact time the fish had been landed, some were inclined to laugh, andothers to be angry, fancying that he was practising on their credulity;but the more generous soon saw, from the honest blush which rose on hischeeks when he assured them that he was simply saying what he knew to bethe case, that he was really speaking the truth. He thus gained manyfriends, and even bargain-loving housekeepers ceased to try and beat himdown. His price was always moderate, and the profit he made was, afterall, but a small remuneration for the toil he went through.

  To be up early, to be on his feet all day, and often unable to reachhome till late in the evening, was now little Ben's fate. He did notcomplain; far from it. He rejoiced that he was thus able to assist hiswidowed mother.

  John Hadden had saved but little money. His boat and his nets composedthe principal part of his worldly wealth, besides the cottage he livedin. The boat was gone; and the nets, without the hands which used them,could gain nothing. Mrs Hadden was therefore advised to sell them,with the portions of the boat-gear which had remained on shore. Thetimes, however, were bad, she was told, and the things were sold verymuch under their real value. She was still thankful for what shereceived, and she resolved to live as frugally as possible, that herhumble means might the longer hold out.

  Her daughter was a heavy expense to her. Poor Susan grew worse andworse; yet she still lingered on, utterly helpless to look at, yet nothelpless in reality, for she was supported by faith in the Lord JesusChrist. She was perfectly happy, as far as she herself was concerned;her only regret being that she deprived her mother of part of the scantymeans she so much required for herself. At length, full of hope andjoy, she died. Little Ben wept bitterly for the loss of his sister: hehad never for one moment thought of the money spent on her. Thebereaved mother mourned more silently.

  Mrs Hadden was yet to be further tried. A letter one day reached herfrom a stranger. It told her that her only surviving son, besides Ben,had been cast away in the far off Pacific Ocean, and, with many others,murdered or held captive by savages. The writer, Thomas Barlow, saidthat he and Ned were great friends, and that they had agreed, should anymisfortune happen to either, the survivor should write home, and give anaccount of what had occurred. Barlow wrote, in fulfilment of hispromise, addressing his letter to John Hadden: all the hope he couldgive was that Ned might have escaped with his life, as some white menhad been known from time to time to be living among those savages; butthe opinion was that all their shipmates had been murdered. The writeradded that he, with six other men only of all the crew, had made theirescape in the longboat of the wrecked vessel, and, after suffering greathardships, had been picked up at sea by a ship bound for Sydney, NewSouth Wales.

  "Poor Ned! poor Ned!" exclaimed little Ben, crying bitterly; "he mustnot be lost! I'll go and look for him, mother. If he is alive, I'llfind him, and bring him back to you."

  "Oh no! no, Ben! don't you go away from me," cried the poor widow. "Ishould indeed be forlorn if I was to lose you. Yet, Ned! Ned! poorNed! where can you be--among savages, or killed? You wouldn't find him,Ben; they would only treat you in the same way, and I should lose you,Ben. It cannot be: oh, don't--don't think of it, Ben!" And the poorwidow at length found some relief to her feelings in a flood of tears.It was seldom that she gave way in this manner; but the announcement ofNed's too probable fate, and the thought of losing Ben, completelyovercame her.

  The idea, however, that he would go to sea and find his brother hadentered little Ben's head, and, moreover, that they together would bringback wealth sufficient to support their mother in comfort. That ideawas not very easily driven away. Day after day it occurred to him. Hisdifficulty was to persuade his mother to let him go. He did notunderstand as clearly as an older person might have done, that he couldnot go away without making her very unhappy. He argued that he shouldbe away only a short time, and that then he should come back so rich,and be able to take such good care of her, that she would gain ampleamends for the pain she might suffer by parting with him for a season.Poor fellow! he little knew the dangers and hardships he would have toencounter in a sailor's life.

  Ben's mind was full of his plans, and they served at all events tobeguile many a weary mile, as he trudged on through the country,contentedly as usual, selling his fish. One day, however, when walkingalong the streets of the town, he met with an accident. A horse,dragging a cart, took fright and was dashing along the road, near thesea, towards a group of little children whose nursemaids were standingchatting to each other, not thinking much about their young charges.The women, startled at hearing the horse coming, were so frightened thatthey knew not what to do. They snatched up one child after the other,running here and there, and leaving several of the little creatures,unconscious of their danger, in the very way of the maddened animal.Ben saw the peril in which the children were placed, and, throwing downhis basket of fish, he sprang forward and caught the reins, which werehanging over the shafts. He had not strength to stop the horse, thoughhe turned it aside, while he still hung on to the reins; he was at thesame time dragged down, and the wheel passed over his side and one ofhis legs. The horse, thus turned from his course, dashed against somerailings, and was stopped. The children were saved.

  A gentleman looking out of a window saw the accident, and the gallantway in which little Ben had behaved. He rushed out of the house, tookhim in, placed him on a sofa, and sent for a surgeon. His leg was notbroken, but some of his ribs were. The gentleman said that Ben shouldremain at his house till he was cured. He also at once sent off to MrsHadden to inform her of the accident, and to assure her that her son waswell taken care of. Immediately she received the sad news, she set offto see Ben. She could not bear the thought of letting him remain withstrangers, however kind they might prove.

  It was almost midnight when she arrived. Ben's friend received herkindly, and her heart was comfor
ted when she found that her son wasgoing on so well. The gentleman told her that he was LieutenantCharlton, of the navy, and again assured her that he would take goodcare of the boy. Satisfied that Ben's new friend would keep his word,she returned home the next day.

  In less than six weeks Ben was almost himself again. LieutenantCharlton nursed the poor boy as if he had been his own son, and showedhow much pleased he was with him. Ben spoke frankly to him, told him ofhis past life, hopes, and wishes.

  "Well, my boy, I will take you to sea with me when next I go, and thatwill be, I hope, before long," said the lieutenant to him one day.

  "I should like to go, sir, very much indeed, but mother says that shecannot part with me," answered Ben.

  "I will speak to your mother, and explain to her how seamen in theBritish navy are now treated," said the lieutenant. "She, I daresay,believes that they are no more cared for than they used to be at onetime; whereas, the truth is that they are better looked after than manypeople on shore, and certainly much better than the seamen in themerchant service."

  "It is not ill-treatment either she or I fear, sir," said Ben. "I'd goanywhere with you, sir; but mother cannot bear the thought of partingwith me--that's the truth of it, sir."

  "I'll speak to her about the matter, and perhaps she may see things in adifferent light," said Lieutenant Charlton. "Perhaps I may be able tofind a home for her while you are away, and then she will be content tolet you go, knowing that you are well provided for."

  Ben thanked the lieutenant very much. He made up his mind, however,that, unless his mother was perfectly ready to let him go to sea,nothing should persuade him to quit her. He had not forgotten hisfather's last words, "Do right, whatever comes of it."

  "The Bible says, `Honour thy father and thy mother,'" said Ben tohimself. "I should not be honouring my mother if I was to disobey herwishes, even though I was to become an officer, and see all the world,and come back with my pockets full of gold. No, no! LieutenantCharlton is very kind and very good--that I am sure of; but, poor dearmother, I'll not leave her, unless she bids me, in God's name, go andprosper."

  Ben was now sufficiently recovered to return home. He went back in acart provided for him by the good lieutenant, who had also during hisconfinement not been unmindful of his mother. Ben found that someladies had called on her, saying that they were the parents of thechildren who had been saved by Ben's bravery and presence of mind, andthey insisted, as the least they could do, on supplying all her wantsduring his absence. They also promised further aid when they hadlearned how they could best bestow it. Indeed, Mrs Hadden had beenmuch better off of late than she had been for a long time before.

  "I think, mother, that we should say, besides `Do right, whatever comesof it,' `Whatever happens is for the best,' even though it looks to uslike a great misfortune. I thought that I was very unfortunate when Igot knocked down and had my ribs broken, and yet you see how much goodhas come out of it. You have been well looked after, and I have gainedmore friends than I might otherwise have found during all my life."

  "Yes, Ben," answered Mrs Hadden, "yes. God orders all for the best,there's no doubt about that; but His ways are not our ways, and wecannot always see how that which happens is to work for our good asclearly as we now see how your broken ribs which you speak of havebrought me many comforts I should not otherwise have enjoyed. Yourfather, Ben, would have said what I do; and I often think, now that heis in heaven enjoying perfect happiness, how he blesses God that he wasborn a poor humble fisherman, with the grace and the religiousprivileges he enjoyed, instead of some rich man, whose heart might haveremained unchanged, or instead of one who might have put his faith inthe Pope of Rome, or in that wicked impostor we were reading about,Mahomet. Ah, Ben, we often are not thankful enough for all thereligious advantages we enjoy, and, above all, that we have so fully andfreely the gospel placed before us."