R. M. Ballantyne
The Lifeboat
Chapter One.
The Beginningin which Several Important Personages are Introduced
There existed, not many years ago, a certain street near the banks of old Father Thames which may be described as being one of the most modest and retiring little streets in London.
The neighbourhood around that street was emphatically dirty and noisy. There were powerful smells of tallow and tar in the atmosphere, suggestive of shipping and commerce. Narrow lanes opened off the main street affording access to wharves and warehouses, and presenting at their termini segmentary views of ships hulls, bowsprits, and booms, with a background of muddy water and smoke. There were courts with unglazed windows resembling doors, and massive cranes clinging to the walls. There were yards full of cases and barrels, and great anchors and chains, which invaded the mud of the river as far as was consistent with safety; and adventurous little warehouses, which stood on piles, up to the knees, as it were, in water, totally regardless of appearances, and utterly indifferent as to catching cold. As regards the population of this locality, rats were, perhaps, in excess of human beings; and it might have been observed that the former were particularly frolicsome and fearless.
Farther back, on the landward side of our unobtrusive street, commercial and nautical elements were more mingled with things appertaining to domestic life. Elephantine horses, addicted to good living, drew through the narrow streets wagons and vans so ponderous and gigantic that they seemed to crush the very stones over which they rolled, and ran terrible risk of sweeping little children out of the upper windows of the houses. In unfavourable contrast with these, donkeys, of the most meagre and starved aspect, staggered along with cartloads of fusty vegetables and dirty-looking fish, while the vendors thereof howled the nature and value of their wares with deliberate ferocity. Low pawnbrokers (chiefly in the slop line) obtruded their seedy wares from doors and windows halfway across the pavement, as if to tempt the naked; and equally low pastry-cooks spread forth their stale viands in unglazed windows, as if to seduce the hungry.
Here the population was mixed and varied. Busy men of business and of wealth, porters and wagoners, clerks and warehousemen, rubbed shoulders with poor squalid creatures, men and women, whose business or calling no one knew and few cared to know except the policeman on the beat, who, with stern suspicious glances, looked upon them as objects of special regard, and as enemies; except, also, the earnest-faced man in seedy black garments, with a large Bible (evidently) in his pocket, who likewise looked on them as objects of special regard, and as friends. The rats were much more circumspect in this locality. They were what the Yankees would call uncommonly cute, and much too deeply intent on business to indulge in play.
In the lanes, courts, and alleys that ran still farther back into the great hive, there was an amount of squalor, destitution, violence, sin, and misery, the depth of which was known only to the people who dwelt there, and to those earnest-faced men with Bibles who made it their work to cultivate green spots in the midst of such unpromising wastes, and to foster the growth of those tender and beautiful flowers which sometimes spring and flourish where, to judge from appearances, one might be tempted to imagine nothing good could thrive. Here also there were rats, and cats too, besides dogs of many kinds; but they all of them led hard lives of it, and few appeared to think much of enjoying themselves. Existence seemed to be the height of their ambition. Even the kittens were depressed, and sometimes stopped in the midst of a faint attempt at play to look round with a scared aspect, as if the memory of kicks and blows was strong upon them.
The whole neighbourhood, in fact, teemed with sad yet interesting sights and scenes, and with strange violent contrasts. It was not a spot which one would naturally select for a ramble on a summer evening after dinner; nevertheless it was a locality where time might have been profitably spent, where a good lesson or two might have been learned by those who have a tendency to consider the poor.
But although the neighbourhood was dirty and noisy, our modest street, which was at that time known by the name of Redwharf Lane, was comparatively clean and quiet. True, the smell of tallow and tar could not be altogether excluded, neither could the noises; but these scents and sounds reached it in a mitigated degree, and as the street was not a thoroughfare, few people entered it, except those who had business there, or those who had lost their way, or an occasional street boy of an explorative tendency; which last, on finding that it was a quiet spot, invariably entered a protest against such an outrageous idea as quietude in the City by sending up a series of hideous yells, and retiring thereafter precipitately.
Here, in Redwharf Lane, was the office of the firm of Denham, Crumps, and Company.
Mr Denham stood with his back to the fire, for it was a coldish autumn day, with his coat-tails under his arms. He was a big bald man of five-and-forty, with self-importance enough for a man of five-hundred-and-forty. Mr Crumps sat in a small back-office, working so diligently that one might have supposed he was endeavouring to bring up the arrears of forty years neglect, and had pledged himself to have it done before dinner. He was particularly small, excessively thin, very humble, rather deaf, and upwards of sixty. Company had died of lockjaw two years previous to the period of which we write, and is therefore unworthy of farther notice. A confidential clerk had taken, and still retained, his place.
Messrs Denham, Crumps, and Company, were shipowners. Report said that they were rich, but report frequently said what was not true in those days. Whether it has become more truthful in the present days, remains an open question. There can be no question, however, that much business was done at the office in Redwharf Lane, and that, while Denham lived in a handsome mansion in Russell Square, and Crumbs dwelt in a sweet cottage in Kensington, Company had kept a pony phaeton, and had died in a snug little villa on Hampstead Heath.
The office of Denham, Crumps, and Company was small and unpretending, as was the street in which it stood. There was a small green door with a small brass plate and a small brass knocker, all of which, when opened by their attendant, a small tiger in blue, with buttons, gave admittance to a small passage that terminated in a small room. This was the outer office, and here sat the four clerks of the establishment on four tall stools, writing in four monstrous volumes, as furiously as if they were decayed authors whose lives depended on the result. Their salaries did, poor fellows, and that was much the same thing!
A glass door, with scratches here and there, through which the head of the firm could gaze unseen, separated the office from Denhams room, and a wooden door separated that from Crumps room, beyond which there was a small closet or cell which had been Companys room before that gentleman died. It was now used as a repository for ancient books and papers.
Very odd, said Mr Denham, and as he said so he touched a small silver bell that stood on his writing-table.
The tiger in blue and buttons instantly appeared.
Here, Peekins, post these letters. Has no one called this afternoon; I mean, no one resembling a sailor?
The boy in blue started, and his face became very red.
Why, whats the matter, boy? What do you mean by staring at me, instead of answering my question?
Please, sir, stammered Peekins meekly, I didnt mean no arm, sir, but you see, sir, his face was so drefful fierce, and he looked sich a wild
Boy, are you mad? interrupted Mr Denham, advancing and seizing the tiger by his blue collar; what are you talking about? Now, answer my question at once, else Ill shake the little life you have out of your body. Did any sailor-like man call at the office this afternoon?
Oh, sir, yes, sir,IIthought he was drunk and wouldnt let im in, sir; hes bin a standin stampin at the door for more than
The end of the sentence was cut short by Mr Denham suddenly ejecting the boy from the room and shouting, Let him in!
In a few seconds a heavy tread was heard in the outer office, and the boy ushered in a tall young man, of unusually large proportions, with extremely broad shoulders, and apparently about twenty-three years of age, whose rough pilot-coat, wide pantaloons, and glazed hat bespoke him a sailor. His countenance was flushed, and an angry frown contracted his brow as he strode into the room, pulled off his hat and stood before the head of the house of Denham, Crumps, and Company.
I beg pardon, sir, began the sailor, somewhat sharply, yet without disrespect, when I am asked to come
Yes, yes, Bax, interposed Mr Denham, I know what you would say. Pray calm yourself. It is a pity you should have been kept waiting outside, but the fact is that my boy is a new one, and apparently he is destitute of common sense. Sit down. I sent for you to say that I wish you to take the Nancy to Liverpool. You will be ready to start at once, no doubt
Before the schooner is overhauled? inquired Bax, in surprise.
Of course, said Denham, stiffly; I see no occasion for another overhaul. That schooner will cost us more than she is worth if we go on repairing at the rate we have been doing the last two years.
She needs it all, sir, rejoined Bax, earnestly. The fact is, Mr Denham, I feel it to be my duty to tell you that there aint a sound plank or timber in her from stem to stern, and Im pretty sure that if she costs you money, shes likely to cost me and the men aboard of her our lives. I strongly advise you to strike her off the books, and get a new one.
Mr Bax, said Denham, pompously, you are too young a man to offer your advice unless it is asked. I believe the engineer employed by me to examine into the condition of my vessels is quite competent to judge in these matters, and I have unbounded confidence in him. When I placed you in command of the Nancy, I meant you to navigate, not to criticise her; but if you are afraid to venture
Afraid! cried the young sailor, reddening. Is anxiety about the lives of your men and the safety of your property to be called fear? I am willing to sail in the Nancy as long as a plank of her will hold to her ribs, but
Bax paused and bit his lip, as if to keep back words which had better not be spoken.
Well, then, rejoined Mr Denham, affecting to disregard the pause, let me hear no more about repairs. When these require to be done, they shall be done. Meanwhile, go and make preparation to sail by the morning tides which serves aboutwhat hour, think you?
Flood at half after six, said Bax, curtly.
Very well, come up here at half-past five, one of the clerks will see you. You will have to run down to Dover in the first place, and when there my agent will give you further instructions. Good afternoon!
Bax rose and quitted the room with a stern Good day, sir.
As he passed through the outer office he was arrested by one of the clerks laying a hand on his shoulder.
Well, Mr Foster, said Bax, a bright smile chasing the frown from his face, it seems were to swim if we can, or sink if we cant this winter;but what want ye with me?
You are to call me Guy, not Mister Foster, said the lad, gaily. I want to know where you are to be found after six this evening.
At the Three Jolly Tars, answered Bax, clapping on his glazed hat.
All right, Ill look you up. Good-day.
Guy Foster, shouted Mr Denham from the inner room.
Yes, uncle, and in another moment the youth was standing, pen in hand, in the august presence of his relative, who regarded him with a cold stare of displeasure.
There could scarcely have been conceived a stronger contrast in nature than that which existed between the starched, proud, and portly uncle, and the tall, handsome, and hearty young nephew, whose age was scarcely twenty years.
How often am I to tell you, sir, said Mr Denham, that yes, uncle, is much too familiar and unbusinesslike a phrase to be used in this office in the hearing of your fellow-clerks?
I beg pardon, uncle, Im sure I had no intention of
There, that will do, I want no apology, I want obedience and attention to my expressed wishes. I suppose that you expect to get away for a few days holiday?
Well, unc, sir, I mean, if it is quite convenient I should
It is not quite convenient, interrupted the uncle. It cannot possibly, at any time, be convenient to dispense with the services of a clerk in a house where no supernumeraries are kept to talk slang and read the newspapers. I see no reason whatever in young men in ordinary health expecting as a right, two or three weeks leave each year without deduction of salary. I never go to the country or to the sea-side from one years end to the other.
Youd be much the better for it if you did, uncle, interposed Guy.
That, sir, retorted Denham with emphasis, is your opinion, and you will allow me to say that it is erroneous, as most of your opinions, I am sorry to find, are. I find that no change is necessary for my health. I am in better condition than many who go to Margate every summer. I thrive on town air, sir, and on city life.
There was much truth in these observations. The worthy merchant did indeed seem to enjoy robust health, and there could be no question that, as far as physical appearances went, he did thrive on high living, foul air, and coining money. Tallow and tar sent forth delicious odours to him, and thick smoke was pleasant to his nostrils, for he dealt largely in coal, and all of these, with many kindred substances, were productive of the one great end and object of his lifegold.
However, pursued Mr Denham, leaning back on the mantle-piece, as the tyrannical customs of society cannot be altogether set at nought, I suppose I must let you go.
Thank you, unc sir, said Guy, who, having been chained to the desk in the office of Redwharf Lane for the last eleven months, felt his young heart bounding wildly within him at the prospect of visiting, even for a brief period, his mothers cottage on the coast of Kent.
You have no occasion to thank me, retorted Mr Denham; you are indebted entirely to the tyrannical customs and expectations of society for the permission. Good-bye, you may convey my respects to your mother.
I will, sir.
Have you anything further to say? asked Mr Denham, observing that the youth stood looking perplexedly at the ground, and twirling his watch-key.
Yes, uncle, I have, answered Guy, plucking up courage. The fact isthat, is to sayyou know that wrecks are very common off the coast of Kent.